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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
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"For now, we will target the nearest, most accessible ruins," Aerion instructed, tracing a path across the parchment. "Furthermore, my research indicates that not all Word Walls are buried underground in draugr infested crypts. Many are carved into the open stone of high mountains and remote hills across Skyrim. We can ride out to those locations as well. We will build your arsenal, syllable by syllable." Aerion rolled the map back up, turning back to the fiercely determined Dragonborn. "Rest well tonight, Aeloria," Aerion commanded softly. "For tomorrow, the true training begins."
Aeloria slowly nodded her head, her bright blue eyes fixed on the High Elf. She absorbed the terrifying truth, locking it away behind a wall of Nordic determination.
"If that is what we are facing, then I cannot afford to waste a single day," Aeloria said, her voice steady and resolute. She looked at Aerion, leaning slightly forward. "Aerion, you know the lores and the maps far better than I ever will. Help me choose. Which Nordic crypts do we delve into first? Which Word Walls in the mountains or hills around Whiterun hold the power I need to stand against him?"
Aerion let out a warm, reassuring chuckle, the sound instantly alleviating the lingering tension in the room. He walked over to a nearby heavy oak desk, completely unbothered by the high stakes that just put out.
"No need to worry, Aeloria," Aerion assured her smoothly, taking a seat at the desk. He pulled a crisp sheet of parchment toward him, uncapping a bottle of dark ink and selecting a fine quill. "I have already cross referenced the ancient texts and informations with the current modern locations. I will provide you with an itinerary. We can systematically clear several locations in a matter of three to four days."
Aeloria let out a long breath, visibly relieved by his effortless preparation. "Thank you, Aerion. Truly. I need to go sharpen my axe and check my armor straps. Let me know when the plan is set."
With a final, determined nod, she turned and headed down the corridor toward the armory, Valdemar falling into step right behind his Thane.
Alone in the main room, Aerion's warm, scholarly smile faded into a look of cold, calculating geopolitical strategy. He didn't consult any physical books. He simply engaged his transmigrator system, projecting a semi translucent, highly detailed topographical map of Skyrim directly into his field of vision.
The glowing map was littered with icons, marking crypts, bandit camps, and most importantly, the draconic runes denoting Word Walls.
He dipped the quill into the ink and began to write, charting a ruthless, highly efficient path of conquest.
'First, the Dustman's Cairn,' Aerion plotted mentally. It was located just out on the western tundra. It held a Word Wall for the Fire Breath Shout. In the standard gameplay of Skyrim in his past life, this ruin was meant to be an important part of main quest for the Companions, heavily intertwined with their faction quests.
Aerion did not care in the slightest about preserving their initiation rites. He knew that lying deep within that crypt was a fragmented piece of Wuuthrad, the legendary battleaxe of Ysgramor. He fully intended to seize the fragment for "safekeeping" to use as a political leverage when Aeloria finally made her play for the Circle's and soon the Companions leadership, which was very important.
'Second, Rannveig's Fast,' he noted, his quill scratching rhythmically against the parchment. Nestled in the southern mountains, it contained a Word Wall for Kyne's Peace. It was also the lair of Sild the Warlock, a twisted, subjugating necromancer who trapped adventurers souls in there. Sild would serve as excellent target practice for his Destruction magic.
'Third, Sunderstone Gorge.' Another Word Wall for Fire Breath. The gorge was a claustrophobic, scorching cavern infested with high level mages of all Destruction elements and necromancers. A brutal environment, but necessary to quickly stack the syllables of the Shout.
'Lastly, Lost Valley Redoubt.' This massive, sprawling, open air ruin was technically situated in the jagged mountains of the Reach, just outside of Whiterun Hold. It was heavily fortified by the wild, chaotic magic of the Forsworn and their terrifying Hagraven matriarchs. But resting at the very top, near Bard's Leap Summit, was a Word Wall for Become Ethereal. The tactical advantage of brief invulnerability was vastly too valuable to ignore.
Aerion reviewed the list. The geographical loop was tight. He estimated they could ruthlessly systematically clear all four locations in two solid days of marching and fighting.
But words etched in stone were utterly useless to a Dragonborn without the souls to unlock them.
'We will need dragons for the souls so Aeloria could use her shouts,' Aerion calculated, scanning the system map for active lairs.
Most of the major dragon peaks were scattered across the far corners of the province, requiring weeks of travel. However, there was one peak relatively close by, resting high in the snowy mountains separating the Pale from Whiterun.
Shearpoint.
Aerion's golden eyes narrowed slightly. Shearpoint was indeed a dragon lair, possessing the Word Wall for Throw Voice. But it was vastly more dangerous than a simple dragon roost. It was the ancient resting place of Krosis, one of the mysterious and also lethal Dragon Priest of the First Era.
A Dragon Priest was a terrifying arcane entity, possessing a level of magical mastery and necrotic resilience that would absolutely slaughter standard mortals. It was an enemy on a completely different tier of existence compared to the bandits, draugr, and dragons they had faced thus far.
But Aerion looked at his own system stats, his high level Destruction, Restoration, and Conjuration skills, his deep well of Magicka, and felt a cold, sociopathic thrill. With his power and Aeloria combined with his retainers, they could take him down.
As for any other dragons needed to unlock the remaining words, Aerion would simply have to rely on the chaotic nature of the province. They would keep their eyes on the sky during their travels and listen for rumors of local sightings in the taverns.
The training regimen was set.
Aerion stood up, holding the dried parchment, and walked to the armory. Aeloria was running a whetstone along the edge of her massive ebony battleaxe.
"The itinerary is finalized," Aerion announced, handing her the list. "We ride out at first light tomorrow. We will be traveling light and fast. Just the five of us, you, myself, Jenassa, Lydia, and Valdemar. A massive mercenary company would only slow us down in the narrow confines of the crypts. Given your growing mastery of the Voice, and our combined martial capabilities, five is more than enough to breach any tomb or slay any beast."
Aeloria looked over the parchment, her eyes scanning the strange, ancient names.
"Dustman's Cairn... Rannveig's Fast... Sunderstone Gorge..." she read aloud, shaking her head slightly. "I don't know the layout of a single one of these places, Aerion. I have never even knew or hear about it. But if you say the power I need is in there, I trust your judgment completely."
"Then rest well tonight, Dragonborn," Aerion advised smoothly. "Tomorrow will be long."
The next morning broke crisp and clear over the Whiterun tundra.
Long before the sun had fully crested the eastern mountains, the main house of the estate was alive with quiet, focused activity. Lydia had taken over the hearth, utilizing the fresh provisions from the cellars to prepare a simple but incredibly hearty breakfast of thick venison stew, roasted tubers, and dense black bread to fuel the team for the grueling days ahead.
They ate quickly, the atmosphere professional and determined.
Before departing, Aerion stepped out into the courtyard, pulling Captain Sinmir aside.
"The five of us are pushing into the wilderness for an important operation," Aerion instructed the towering mercenary. "You have absolute command of the estate in my absence. Keep the gates locked and area secured, drill the new recruits, and ensure the mammoth cheese continues its curing process without interruption."
"The estate will remain a fortress, Patron," Sinmir swore, saluting sharply. "Safe travels to you and the Dragonborn."
However, a minor but important hurdle immediately presented itself as they gathered near the stables. There were five heavily armored adults, and only two horses currently stabled at the estate, Aerion's massive black warhorse, Revan, and Jenassa's swift bay.
"We require additional mounts," Aerion noted, not missing a beat.
He seamlessly orchestrated the transport. Aerion swung up into Revan's saddle, effortlessly pulling Valdemar up behind him to ride double on the massive beast. Jenassa mounted her bay horse, offering her hand to pull Aeloria up behind her. Lydia, lacking a mount, remained briefly at the estate gates, her shield resting on the dirt.
"Wait here, Lydia," Aerion commanded gently. "We will return in twenty minutes."
Aerion and Jenassa spurred their horses, galloping rapidly across the short stretch of tundra toward the city. They arrived at the Whiterun Stables in a cloud of dust.
Skulvar Sable-Hilt, the stable master, was currently brushing down a row of sturdy, thick-coated draft horses.
"Skulvar," Aerion called out, smoothly dismounting. "I require three of your finest, most enduring draft horses. Fully saddled and prepared for immediate travel."
The old Nord blinked, looking at the High Elf in surprise. "Three? My Thane, that's a massive purchase. Quality steeds like these run a thousand septims a head."
Aerion didn't bother haggling. He simply accessed his system inventory, seamlessly withdrawing three heavy, clinking leather pouches directly from the digital void, masking the motion by reaching into his dark leather satchel.
He tossed the heavy pouches onto a nearby barrel. They hit the wood with a massive, undeniable thud.
Skulvar's eyes went wide as saucers. He quickly untied one of the pouches, staring at the glittering gold inside. "By the Eight... right away, my Thane! The three bays on the end are yours. Strong backs, good temperaments."
Within minutes, Aeloria and Valdemar had transferred to their own sturdy mounts. Jenassa took the reins of the third newly purchased horse, leading it alongside her own. They rode swiftly back to the estate, where a highly relieved Lydia swung up into the saddle of the final horse.
With the team fully mounted and highly mobile, Aerion turned his horse westward.
"Our first stop, Dustman's Cairn," Aerion commanded.
And so began a brutal, blindingly fast crusade across the central holds.
It was a cinematic, relentless blur of ancient stone, flashing steel, and roaring magic. They moved with the terrifying, synchronized efficiency of a veteran combat group that had perfectly mapped each other's rhythms.
They struck Dustman's Cairn first. The ancient, dusty tomb was swarming with draugr that violently burst from their stone sarcophagi, their eyes glowing with pale blue malice.
The undead were met with absolute devastation. Aerion glided through the claustrophobic corridors, his hands weaving torrents of superheated plasma and jagged lightning that shattered the ancient bones before they could even draw their rusted swords.
They breached the final chamber. Aeloria stepped up to the massive, curved stone Word Wall, the ancient draconic chanting filling the cavern. The glowing blue rune lifted from the stone, flowing directly into her chest.
At the exact same moment, Aerion stood in the shadows, seamlessly engaging his system interface as the latent draconic magic saturated the room.
[Word of Power Learned: Yol (Fire) - Fire Breath]
While Aeloria was recovering from the absolute surge of power, Aerion casually walked over to a nearby stone pedestal. Resting atop it was a jagged, polished shard of dark metal. The fragment of Wuuthrad. He smoothly slipped it into his spatial inventory increasing his weight by 1 KG, leaving the Companions' sacred relic entirely absent for whenever they eventually sent their whelps to retrieve it.
They didn't rest. They rode hard into the southern mountains, breaching the cold, tragic halls of Rannveig's Fast.
The dungeon was a psychological nightmare. Subjugated ghosts, bound against their will by Sild the Warlock, wept and repeatedly apologized as they were forced to swing their spectral weapons at the strike team.
"I'm sorry! I can't stop!" a ghostly Imperial woman cried out, lunging at Lydia.
"Grant them peace!" Aeloria yelled, her heart breaking for the bound souls as she cleaved through them with the Axe of Morthal.
They pushed deep into the ruins, cornering Sild the Warlock near his twisted, blood stained altar. The mad necromancer shrieked, preparing to hurl a massive barrage of dark magic, but Aerion simply snapped his fingers. A massive, nine foot tall Frost Atronach violently materialized directly above Sild, crushing the warlock against the stone floor under two tons of jagged ice.
Aeloria approached the Word Wall, absorbing the soothing, harmonious energy of the rune.
[Word of Power Learned: Kaan (Kyne) - Kyne's Peace]
By the second day, they rode into the oppressive, suffocating heat of Sunderstone Gorge.
The massive cavern system was lit by roaring braziers and pools of bubbling oil. It was entirely infested by high level pyromancers and necromancers who rained fireballs down upon them from elevated wooden scaffolding.
It was a duel of raw arcane artillery. Aerion simply out casted them. He utilized his maximized Fire Destruction spells, erecting massive Greater Wards to absorb their attacks before retaliating with condensed spears of dark red hot plasma that vaporized the enemy mages where they stood.
Deep in the sweltering gorge, surrounded by the charred remains of the necromancers, Aeloria and Aerion claimed their prize.
[Word of Power Learned: Toor (Inferno) - Fire Breath]
Their final target pushed them into the jagged, untamed borders of the Reach. Lost Valley Redoubt was a staggering, sprawling open air ruin built into the side of a massive, roaring waterfall.
The vertical ascent was a chaotic, bloody struggle. The Forsworn, clad in animal furs and wielding jagged bone axes, swarmed them like angry hornets. Terrifying Hagraven matriarchs shrieked from the high cliffs, hurling massive fireballs that exploded against Valdemar's and Lydia's raised shields.
But the strike team's momentum was utterly unstoppable. Aeloria's newly unlocked Unrelenting Force sent dozens of Forsworn plummeting hundreds of feet off the narrow stone bridges, their screams swallowed by the roaring waterfall. Jenassa's arrows consistently found the throats of the Hagravens, silencing their dark magic.
They fought their way to the absolute pinnacle, Bard's Leap Summit.
Standing before the sheer drop, Aeloria approached the final Word Wall, the ethereal, shifting energy of the rune washing over her soul.
Aerion stood beside her, feeling the exact same rush of ancient understanding integrate into his own mind.
[Word of Power Learned: Gron (Bind) - Become Ethereal]
[Shout Completed: Become Ethereal (Fade, Spirit, Bind)]
Aerion exhaled a long, steady breath. The power to render his physical form completely intangible and invulnerable was now fully, entirely mastered.
They stood at the summit, the freezing mist from the waterfall washing over their exhausted, blood stained armor.
In two days, they had systematically dismantled four major fortifications and claimed a wealth of latent draconic power.
Aerion had operated flawlessly throughout the crusade. He had restricted his looting entirely, allowing Jenassa, Lydia, and Valdemar to strip the crypts and the Forsworn camps of their gold, enchanted jewelry, and valuable gems, massively enriching his retainers and solidifying their fanatical loyalty.
His own inventory remained entirely uncluttered, holding only the Wuuthrad fragment and his supplies.
Aeloria leaned heavily on the haft of her battleaxe, looking out over the sprawling, jagged canyons of the Reach. She could literally feel the ancient words burning in her mind, a massive reservoir of latent power pushing against her soul, demanding to be unlocked.
"I have the words, Aerion," Aeloria said, her voice raspy from the constant shouting of commands. "But they are silent. I can feel them, but I cannot speak them. I need the souls."
Aerion turned away from the cliff edge, his golden eyes locking onto the distant, snow capped peaks of the Pale, visible far to the northeast.
"And you shall have them," Aerion promised, his voice low and dangerous.
He didn't need to consult his map. He knew exactly where the next target lay. It was time to escalate the violence to a mythological tier.
"We are finished with bandits and draugr," Aerion announced to the strike team, walking past them toward where they had hitched the horses lower down the mountain. "Mount up, and check your bindings. We ride north, into the snow. We turn our focus to Shearpoint."
Valdemar frowned, wiping a streak of Forsworn blood from his cheek. "Shearpoint? There's rumours that it is known as a dragon lair, is it true Thane Aerion?"
"It is true," Aerion confirmed smoothly. "Aeloria requires a soul to forge her dragon shouts. We are going to rip one from the sky. And if the ancient texts are correct, we will find an enemy resting there that will make everything we have faced these past two days look like child's play." The combat group didn't hesitate. They followed their Patron down the rocky path, their morale absolutely unshakeable. They mounted their draft horses, the beasts snorting in the cold air, and turned their reins toward the freezing, lethal peaks of the Pale.
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[Main Panel]
Name: Aerion
Race: High Elf (Altmer)
Health: 650/650 Stamina: 680/680 Magicka: 890/890
Level: 182
Skills: Animal Affinity (MAX LEVEL), Fast Skill Levelling (MAX LEVEL), Fast Magic Mastery (MAX LEVEL), Instant Shout (MAX LEVEL), Dragon Master (MAX LEVEL), Destruction (Fire(+4)/Lightning(+2)/Frost(+2)) (Level 0/25/0), Restoration (Healing(+2)/Purify(+2)) (Level 0/50), Alteration (Level 35), Illusion (Level 50), Conjuration (Necromancy/Summoning(+1)) (Level 37/60), Persuasion(+2) (Level 0), Smithing (Level 57), Sneak(+1) (Level 0), One Handed(+1) (Level 72), Two Handed (Level 81), Lockpicking (Level 35), Archery (Level 72), Enchanting (Level 66), Light Armor(+1) (Level 75), Block (Level 70), & Pickpocket (Level 8)
Shouts: Fus Roh Dah (Force Balance Push), Tiid (Time), Krii (Kill), Feim Zii Gron (Fade Spirit Bind), Su (Air), Laas (Life), Yol Toor (Fire Inferno), & Kaan (Kyne)
[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, 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, Grand Soul Gem (Filled), Glass Boots, Dwarven Sword, Dwarven Shield, & Wuuthrad's Fragments
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: 95.21 KG / 640 KG
Septims: 78,582