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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
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Aeloria clutched her ears, completely terrified by the sky screaming her new title. Jenassa drew her daggers instinctively, looking wildly for the source of the attack. Aerion stood perfectly still amidst the quaking cobblestones. He looked up toward the distant, cloud covered peak of the Throat of the World, a slow, utterly triumphant smile spreading across his face. The Greybeards had spoken.
The deafening, apocalyptic echo of the word "DOOOVAHHHKINNNN" finally began to roll away across the golden plains, fading into the jagged peaks of the Throat of the World. The subsequent, world shaking crack of thunder rumbled deep within the chest of every living soul in Whiterun, slowly dying down to an eerie, suffocating silence.
The cobblestones ceased their violent trembling. The dust that had been shaken loose from the wooden thatched roofs settled slowly back to the earth.
All around the main gate, the citizens of Whiterun began to pick themselves up from the dirt. Merchants, guards, and travelers exchanged terrified, wide eyed glances, a chaotic, overlapping murmur of panicked questions rapidly filling the afternoon air.
"What by the Nine was that?!"
"Did the mountain just speak?!"
"Is it another dragon?!"
Aeloria stood frozen in the center of the street, her heavy steel gauntlets still pressing tightly against the sides of her horned helmet. Her breath was coming in short, rapid gasps. The sheer acoustic force of the voice had vibrated through her very teeth.
She slowly lowered her hands, turning her bright blue eyes toward the towering High Elf standing calmly beside her.
"Aerion," Aeloria asked, her voice trembling slightly, completely stripped of its usual bravado. She pointed a shaking steel finger toward the distant, cloud covered peak of the mountain. "What in Oblivion was that? That voice... it shook the actual ground! And it said that word again. Dovahkiin. What does it mean?"
Aerion did not look panicked. He looked like a master scholar who had just successfully solved a particularly complex, highly anticipated theorem.
He turned to her, his golden eyes projecting a profound, comforting, yet deeply authoritative calm.
"That thunderous voice, Aeloria, did not belong to a monster," Aerion explained, his melodic voice cutting cleanly through the surrounding panic of the townsfolk. "Based on my extensive studies of the ancient histories of this province, I can confidently predict exactly what we just heard. That was the combined Voice of the Greybeards."
Aeloria's brow furrowed in deep confusion. "The Greybeards? The monks who live on top of the mountain? But... why would they be shouting that word? How could they possibly know what just happened at the watchtower?"
Aerion offered a slow, deliberate shake of his head, acting the part of a wise mage deducing a cosmic mystery.
"I cannot say for certain how their precise perception operates, Aeloria," Aerion theorized smoothly, weaving his meta knowledge flawlessly into the narrative fabric of the world. "But the Greybeards have spent centuries in absolute silence, meditating on the fundamental nature of the Thu'um. They are deeply, inextricably connected to the spiritual energies of Nirn."
He gestured toward the center of her heavy steel breastplate.
"When you absorbed the soul of that ancient dragon, you did not merely take its power," Aerion continued, his voice dropping to a low, awe inspiring register. "You created a massive, violent ripple in the arcane fabric of the world. A cosmic disturbance. The Greybeards undoubtedly felt that shift. They felt the return of the dragon's soul into a mortal vessel."
He looked up at the mountain peak.
"They are summoning you, Aeloria," Aerion stated firmly. "They are calling the Dragonborn to High Hrothgar. It is highly probable they intend to guide you, as they possess more knowledge and experience regarding the use of the Thu'um than anyone else alive in Tamriel."
Aeloria stared at the High Elf, her mind struggling to process the sheer, crushing weight of destiny being violently thrust upon her shoulders. In the span of an hour, she had gone from a simple Nord warrior to a mythological demigod being actively summoned by the mountain itself.
Jenassa, standing near the shadows of the gatehouse, simply adjusted the strap of her Dwarven bow. "If the mountain is calling, Nord, I suggest you answer it. But first, we need to answer to the Jarl."
"Jenassa is correct. We must deliver our report," Aerion agreed.
Without further delay, Aerion led the strike team away from the main gates. Lupin the fox trotted closely at his heels, occasionally letting out a soft, nervous whine at the lingering static in the air.
They walked briskly past the bustling, panicked houses of the Plains District, cutting directly through the market square. The merchants were no longer shouting their wares, they were clustered in tight groups, looking fearfully at the sky.
They ascended the wide, sweeping stone stairs leading into the Wind District, ignoring the stares of the wealthy citizens, and marched directly up the final, massive flight of steps that led to the towering wooden doors of Dragonsreach.
The Whiterun guards stationed at the entrance, recognizing the heavily armed group that had marched out with Irileth earlier, immediately uncrossed their halberds and hauled the heavy oak doors open without a single question.
Aerion, Jenassa, Aeloria, and Lupin stepped into the Great Hall.
The interior of Dragonsreach was a cauldron of intense, chaotic political energy. The massive bonfire roared in the central grate, casting long, dancing shadows over the high wooden rafters.
Seated around the two long, intricately carved feasting tables were the nobles and highly influential merchants of the hold, their voices raised in frantic, overlapping debate regarding the sudden, earth shaking shout from the mountain.
But the true center of power was located at the far end of the hall.
Jarl Balgruuf the Greater was seated heavily upon his throne, rubbing his temples in profound exhaustion. Standing strictly to his right was his Steward, Proventus Avenicci, clutching a scroll of ledgers. Standing to the Jarl's left was his younger brother, Hrongar, a fierce, battle hardened Nord who was currently gesturing wildly toward the ceiling.
As Aerion and his strike team walked up the short, wooden steps dividing the hall, the heavy clanking of Aeloria's Steel Plate armor instantly cut through the ambient noise.
The entire room fell utterly, suffocatingly silent.
Every noble, every guard, and every servant turned their heads, their eyes locking onto the towering High Elf and the blood splattered, soot covered warriors flanking him. They walked straight past the roaring bonfire, stopping respectfully at the base of the stone stairs that led up to the Jarl's throne.
Proventus Avenicci was the first to break the silence. The Steward took a quick, anxious step forward, his face pale but relieved.
"By the Eight, it is incredibly good to see you have finally returned," Proventus breathed, adjusting his robes. "The Jarl has been waiting for word from the front."
Jarl Balgruuf ceased his hushed, intense conversation regarding the mountain's shout with his brother. The Nordic ruler leaned forward in his throne, his eyes rapidly scanning the three warriors for missing limbs or fatal wounds. Seeing them standing tall, his broad shoulders slumped in a massive display of royal relief.
"It is truly good that you have returned to us, Aerion," Jarl Balgruuf spoke, his voice booming with heavy, anxious authority. He gripped the armrests of his throne. "Tell me. What happened at the Western Watchtower? Where is Irileth? And how about the beast?"
Aerion placed his right hand gracefully over his heart, offering a smooth, deeply respectful bow that perfectly commanded the attention of the entire court.
"Irileth remains at the Watchtower, securing the perimeter and organizing the recovery of the wounded, my Jarl," Aerion reported, his melodic voice projecting crystal clear across the silent hall. "As for the dragon... the beast is dead. We have successfully managed to slay the monster."
A collective, sharp gasp of absolute disbelief rippled through the gathered nobles at the feasting tables.
Aerion lowered his head slightly, his tone shifting to one of solemn, respectful military gravitas. "However, the victory was not without cost. The dragon was incredibly fierce, and the combat was brutal. Several of your brave guardsmen have fallen in the line of duty to secure the safety of this hold."
Jarl Balgruuf closed his eyes for a long, heavy moment, absorbing the bitter cost of the war. When he opened them again, his expression was a mask of stoic, regal sorrow.
"I knew I could count on Irileth to hold the line, and I knew I could count on your steel," Balgruuf nodded slowly, his voice heavy with respect. "As for the brave men who have fallen in our service today... their sacrifices will not be forgotten. Their families and next of kin will be given their full wages, and an additional, generous reward from my personal treasury for what they have done for Whiterun."
"A noble and just decree, my Jarl," Aerion nodded approvingly.
Aerion paused, letting the silence stretch for a fraction of a second, deliberately building the dramatic tension in the room. He straightened his posture, his golden eyes locking directly onto the Jarl.
"However, there is something else of monumental, historic importance that you must know, Jarl Balgruuf," Aerion announced, his voice dropping to a low, incredibly serious register.
Balgruuf leaned forward again, his brow furrowing. "Of course, Aerion. Speak plainly. What is it?"
"I am certain that everyone present in this hall just heard the deafening shout that shook the very foundations of the city," Aerion stated, gesturing toward the high windows. "The Voice of the Greybeards."
Hrongar, standing to the Jarl's left, suddenly slammed his fist against his breastplate, unable to contain his fierce Nordic pride.
"By the blood of Ysmir, I knew it!" Hrongar interrupted loudly, his eyes blazing. He looked at the High Elf with a mixture of profound surprise and grudging respect. "You know of the Greybeards, Elf? You actually understand what that thunderous shout means?"
Aerion offered a smooth, highly aristocratic smile, turning his gaze to the Jarl's volatile brother.
"I am a scholar, Hrongar," Aerion replied easily, projecting absolute, irrefutable academic authority. "I have extensively studied the deep history, the sacred traditions, and the ancient cultures of the Nords, dating all the way back to the founding of the First Empire. I know exactly what it means."
Aerion turned back to Jarl Balgruuf, raising his hand and gesturing gracefully, yet deliberately, toward the towering, steel clad woman standing to his left.
"The matter I must bring to your attention, my Jarl, is the target of that ancient summons," Aerion declared, his voice echoing off the stone walls. "That calling from the mountain... it was specifically for Aeloria. Because when the beast fell upon the plains, she absorbed its very soul. She is the Dragonborn the Greybeards are looking for."
The absolute, deafening silence that fell over Dragonsreach was so profound that one could hear the crackling of the embers in the hearth.
The nobles at the tables froze entirely. Proventus Avenicci's jaw literally dropped open, his ledger slipping slightly from his grasp. Hrongar's eyes went as wide as dinner plates.
Jarl Balgruuf the Greater violently surged to his feet.
The Jarl did not look like a weary politician anymore; he looked like an ancient Nordic king confronting a living myth. He descended the first stone step of his dais, his piercing eyes locking intensely onto the Dragonborn.
"Aeloria," Balgruuf demanded, his voice hushed, trembling with raw, unadulterated awe. "Is... is what Aerion says the absolute truth? Did you truly absorb the soul of a dragon?"
Aeloria felt the crushing, heavy weight of the entire court pressing down upon her shoulders. She swallowed hard, gripping the haft of her battleaxe, and offered a slow, incredibly serious nod.
"It is true, Jarl Balgruuf," Aeloria confirmed, her voice steadying as she recounted the impossible. "When I drove my axe into the beast's skull and killed it... the dragon's flesh violently burned away into ash. A blinding, golden light erupted from its bones and rushed directly into my chest. I didn't cast a spell. It just happened. And afterward..."
She hesitated for a moment, looking at Aerion, who offered an encouraging nod, before looking back at the Jarl.
"Afterward, one of your guards told me to try and Shout," Aeloria continued softly. "I felt the power inside me. I spoke a single word... and a massive wave of invisible force blasted across the tundra, flattening the grass and shaking the earth."
Jarl Balgruuf slowly sank back down onto the edge of his wooden throne, his mind reeling.
"By the Eight," Balgruuf whispered in reverence. "So it is true. The legends have returned to us. The Greybeards are actually summoning you."
The quiet reverence of the Jarl was instantly, violently shattered by his brother.
"Did you not hear the deafening, thundering sound as you marched back to the city gates?!" Hrongar practically roared, stepping forward with absolute, fiery passion, his arms wide. "That was the pure, unfiltered Voice of the Greybeards, directly summoning you to the peak of High Hrothgar! This has not happened in... in centuries, at the very least! Not since the great Tiber Septim himself was summoned when he was still known as Talos of Atmora!"
Proventus Avenicci aggressively shook his head, stepping forward to counter the fierce Nord, his bureaucratic, Imperial leaning mind entirely rejecting the mythological fanaticism.
"Hrongar, please, contain yourself," Proventus reprimanded, his tone dripping with pragmatic skepticism. He cast a highly doubtful, scrutinizing glance up and down Aeloria's heavy armor. "What does any of this archaic Nord nonsense have to do with our friend here? Capable as she may be with a battleaxe, I simply do not see any logical, empirical signs of her being this... what, 'Dragonborn'?"
Hrongar spun on his heel, his face turning a furious shade of red, absolutely deeply insulted by the Steward's dismissal.
"Nord nonsense?!" Hrongar snarled, taking a highly aggressive step toward the Imperial bureaucrat. "Why, you puffed up, ignorant, paper pushing fool! These are our most sacred, ancient traditions! These legends go back to the very blood and foundation of the First Empire! You disrespect the very earth you stand upon!"
"Hrongar," Jarl Balgruuf commanded sharply, his booming voice instantly freezing his brother in place. "That is enough. Do not be so hard on Avenicci. His mind operates in numbers, not legends."
Proventus quickly adjusted his robes, visibly rattled but refusing to entirely back down.
"I meant absolutely no disrespect to your traditions, my Jarl, of course," Proventus backpedaled smoothly, though his skepticism remained. "It is just that... logically speaking, what could these ancient monks possibly want with her?"
"That is the Greybeards' business, Proventus, not ours," Jarl Balgruuf countered firmly, waving the Steward's concerns away completely.
The Jarl turned his full, imposing attention back to Aeloria, his expression shifting into one of profound, deep respect.
"Whatever happened out there on the tundra when you killed that beast, Aeloria... it revealed something ancient and powerful within you," Jarl Balgruuf spoke softly, his words carrying the weight of destiny. "And the Greybeards heard it. If the masters of the Thu'um believe you are Dragonborn, who are we, mere mortal men, to argue with the mountain?"
Balgruuf stood up fully, walking down the steps to stand on the same level as the strike team.
"You had better make preparations to travel to High Hrothgar immediately," Balgruuf advised her, his tone deeply solemn. "There is absolutely no refusing the direct summons of the Greybeards. It is a tremendous, historic honor."
A soft, nostalgic smile suddenly touched the weary Jarl's face.
"I truly envy you, you know," Balgruuf murmured, looking past her, lost in a distant memory. "To climb the Seven Thousand Steps again... I made the pilgrimage once myself, when I was a much younger man. Did you know that? High Hrothgar is an incredibly peaceful place. It is very... disconnected from the violent, bloody troubles of this world. Honestly, I wonder if the Greybeards even notice what is going on down here in the valleys. They certainly haven't seemed to care about our civil wars before."
Balgruuf violently shook his head, clearing the nostalgia from his mind, and locked his eyes onto hers once more.
"No matter," Balgruuf declared firmly. "Go to High Hrothgar, Aeloria. Climb the steps. Learn exactly what it is the Greybeards can teach you about your new power."
Balgruuf then took a deliberate step backward, sweeping his commanding gaze over both the Dragonborn and the towering High Elf standing beside her. The Jarl's posture shifted back into the formal, absolute authority of the ruler of the central hold.
"But before you depart my city to ascend the mountain," Jalr Balgruuf announced, his voice echoing loudly, ensuring every single noble in the Great Hall heard his decree, "we have vital, official matters of the court to conclude."
The Jarl clasped his hands behind his back.
"Aerion. Aeloria,"Jarl Balgruuf spoke, addressing them both as absolute equals. "You two have done an impossibly great deed for me, and for the people of this city. Aeloria, you stood your ground and vanquished a mythological terror that threatened to burn our farmlands to ash. And Aerion... not only did you stand alongside her to slay the beast, but your brilliant, unprecedented economic negotiations regarding the mammoth farming initiative which will secured massive, permanent influx of wealth and stability for Whiterun."
Jarl Balgruuf smiled, a fierce, deeply grateful expression.
"You have both bled for my people, and you have enriched my hold," Jarl Balgruuf declared loudly. "Therefore, by my absolute right as Jarl, I formally name both of you as Thanes of Whiterun!"
The nobles at the tables immediately broke into respectful, localized applause, recognizing the sheer political weight of the dual appointments.
"It is the absolute greatest honor that is within my royal power to grant," Jarl Balgruuf continued, raising his voice slightly over the applause. "Your names will be known and respected by every guard in this city."
The Jarl paused, his eyes gleaming with a traditional, royal pride. "And furthermore," Jarl Balgruuf proclaimed, "as is the ancient, unshakeable tradition of our people regarding the appointment of new Thanes... I shall formally assign both of you your own, dedicated personal Housecarls to serve, protect, and accompany you on your journeys."
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[Main Panel]
Name: Aerion
Race: High Elf (Altmer)
Health: 460/460 Stamina: 480/480 Magicka: 670/670
Level: 136
Skills: Animal Affinity (MAX LEVEL), Fast Skill Levelling (MAX LEVEL), Fast Magic Mastery (MAX LEVEL), Instant Shout (MAX LEVEL), Destruction (Fire(+3)/Lightning(+1)/Frost(+1)) (Level 28/57/20), Restoration (Healing(+1)/Purify(+2)) (Level 14/25), Alteration (Level 35), Illusion (Level 50), Conjuration (Necromancy/Summoning(+1)) (Level 37/26), Persuasion(+1) (Level 60), Smithing (Level 22), Sneak (Level 87), One Handed(+1) (Level 72), Two Handed (Level 81), Lockpicking (Level 35), Archery (Level 72), Enchanting (Level 66), Light Armor (Level 92), Block (Level 70), & Pickpocket (Level 8)
Shouts: Fus Roh (Force Balance), Tiid (Time), Krii (Kill), Feim Zii (Fade Spirit), & 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, 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, Gold Ruby Ring of Fortify Magicka, Iron Garnet Ring of Fortify Conjuration & Magicka Regen, Elven Dagger, Potion of Healing, Honed Ancient Nord Sword of Sparks, Gold Emerald Circlet, & Scroll of Fire Storm, Ring of Archery,Hide Boots of Stamina, Ancient Nord Sword of Absorbing, Iron Garnet Circlet, & Iron Sapphire Circlet
2x Common Soul Gem (Empty), Black Soul Gem (Empty), Elven Sword, Amethysts, Potions of Plentiful Magicka, Scroll of Conjure Familiar, & Scroll of Magelight
3x Glowing Mushrooms, Potions of Minor Stamina, Flawless Sapphires, Gold Necklace, Iron Necklace, Petty Soul Gem (Filled), & Potions of Minor Magicka
4x Spider Eggs, Garnets, & Common Soul Gem (Filled)
5x Lesser Soul Gem (Filled)
7x Vampires Dust
8x Iron Arrows & Ancient Nord Arrows
9x Potions Of Minor Healing
12x Black Soul Gem (Filled)
Weight: 90.20 KG / 540 KG
Septims: 82,557