Skyrim: A Sky Full Of Dragons IC Thread.

Skyrim: A Sky Full Of Dragons

The return of the Dragons to Skyrim has just the start, now more things and people are entering the land. Some are good some are not and why they are here, only the gods know that.


OOC AND OOB THREAD
http://forums.spacebattles.com/showthread.php?t=217804

Let me know there if you want an intro post.

Map

http://images.wikia.com/elderscrolls/images/8/88/Skyrimmap.png

The Theme Tune.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UW7EnixZVNI&feature=related

Orianna stepped into the portal, her first match as a Champion and she had lots of data to absorb.
*Summoning*
-70%

-86%

-99%
So close
*Disconnected*

The magic seemed to twist, wrenching the clockwork dancer into another path, through a massive wall, and out into the air. She grabbed onto the ball, letting it slow her fall as she took in what was below. She could see a bridge below, to either side was a sharp drop into raging waters.

She altered her course with several aimed kicks, trying to make good footing on the bridge. She dropped to the stones, looking around to see what had happened. This was not like any of the fields of justice that she knew. The Ball hovered slightly behind her, extending a lens to check for danger. This would be... fun.

Riverwood

The village of Riverwood went about its day despite the excitement of the event early this morning. As the people of Riverwood had awoken a star had fallen from the sky and impacted the mountainside with a great boom. A messenger had been to sent to Whiterun to inform the Jarl of the event and by now the Jarl's men would be combing the mountainside looking for what was left of the fallen star.

No one in Riverwood could of imagined what that the 'falling star' had really been for they were a simple people. With the rumours of dragons about they were keeping an eye on the sky but the 'star' had seemed to be nothing more than fire falling from the sky. They had no concept of escape pods nor could they of imagined that a man had fallen from the sky and was even now heading towards Riverwood.

When he arrived he was the focus of attention for he was a stranger and strangers always drew interest. Some thought him a Mage for he wore robes like them and these robes were fine ones. But he also carried a strange sword and wore some sort of armour under the robes giving the impression of a warrior. The debate over this would carry much longer than the man's visit.

The stranger didn't tarry long he simple asked for a place called Starport, of course no one had ever heard of such a place and this seemed to anger the black robed human. In the end the folk of Riverwood directed him to the same place they sent everyone, Whiterun.

Sleeping Tree Camp

"Hold on, there was a misunderstanding! You looked much smaller from a distance!"

There was a roar and the club, or better said tree log, came down hard, sending dirt and blades of grass flying everywhere. It had almost been Lucius's blood and brain matter that did the flying if not for battle expierence having him dodge. He was faster than someone expect from a non-metal or aircrafter, but that was in the belief his immense strength was only good for hitting things, and not have his armor feel like paperweight.

That said, he missed the sight an air fury would have given him, it would have avoided him running into this lumbering man mountain who reacted aggressively the moment he came into sight. Being by himself, he avoided attacking them, as First Lord Octavian was very strict on the Alerans needing more allies to fight the Vord and thus any new race should be treated with respect. If they deserved it.

"Titus!" Lucius cried out. The giant turned around for another swing, but suddenly stalled as the ground itself caved in under the foot it was leaning, and made it stumble over, and give Lucius the opportunity to shatter the beast's kneecap with his warhammer. Bone splinters and blood sprayed all over, and the giant fell over with a scream that seemed to echo through the plains.

It also seemed to draw the attention of others like him, and Lucius could see a pair of them slowly but surely starting to jog in his direction. "Time to go boy!"

Lucius felt Titus under his feet, and with the fury aiding his movement, he sprinted away from the scene, towards the east in hopes of them giving up eventually and finding some civilisation to seek shelter and learn what was going on.

OOB will be updated as I gain new items and mojo.

IC

South of Riverwood

The large form of a rainbow colored serpent glided below the clouds. Several children playing on the road looked up shocked.

"James look a dragon!"

"That's nice kid."

The man ignored them as he got frisky with his girlfriend. Things were getting spicy. The winged feathered serpent glided down to the ground. Its form rippled and writhed as it shifted to a humanoid form. White robes over intricate armor, a long wicked sword. This was Lord Drenghul the Colored One. He gazed around the forest and with a flick of his wrist a stone morphed and twisted into a fancy gold cane with a jeweled eagle head in the handle.

Drenghul smirked as he leaned on his cane. He began to strut down the forest path like he owned the place. His eyes alight with mischief. This new world would be so much fun!

"Ah I can already see. Interesting times indeed."

Drenghul looked into the village ahead and continued his approach. Once at the entrance he saw an elf. With a wiggle of his fingers his arrows turned into roses. Drenghul restrained his urge to cackle and kept a straight serious tone and stance.

"Good sir you have roses in your arrow holder."

The elf's eyes widened and he took them off and looked.

"By the Eight!"

At that point I outright laughed like a madman.

"Trying to impress some fair maiden?"

My grin grew impossibly large to bad it was hidden by my mask. Oh well.

"Tell me your name Elf. So that I may know whom to buy a drink for!!!"

He looked at me confused.

"Call me Faendal friend."

I smirk.

"Very well call me Drenghul. Now come let us drink!"

I grabbed his arm and dragged him to the Sleeping Giant Inn. Once inside I cackled with glee.

"I will have the strongest spirit you have!"

I reach in my robe pockets pulling out several gold coins.

"I am sorry I don't have local currency. I come from beyond the sea."

Orgnar shakes his head.

"I will let it pass this time friend. Be sure to get some Septims soon though. Not all shop keepers will be as easy going as me."

I nod as I receive my drink. I turn to Faendal.

"What will you have buddy ol' pall?"

And so the time of rejoicing began.

Whiterun

Gothic kicked another stone as he made his way inside the settlement called Whiterun. These savages called it a city but Gothic called it a hovel. Still it was the best place to gather information and maybe find a way off this world. That prospect was looking more hopeless by the moment because nothing Gothic had seen led him to believe that this world had any technology more advanced than a wheelbarrow. As the walked past some stables and saw the the beasts of burden being cared for he realised that he wasn't getting off this planet any time soon.

His mood suddenly shifted.

Gothic realised that if he was stuck here he might as well make the best of it. In the past Sith trapped ,or in some cases exiled, on backwards planets had taken over and lived as gods ruling over the people.

Such a task would take many years and he would have to learn about this place but it was possible for he was a Sith Lord, no one on this mudball could challenge him.

Gothic let himself smile. He now had a purpose again and that was all he ever really needed.

Northwest of Helghan

Shirling colors, infinity, writhing horrors beyond time and space. What took untold eons seemed to last a moment. universes bloomed and died, civilizations rose and fell. Countless worlds extinguished at the whims of Dark Gods. This was my reality, my truth, my nightmare. I had stopped a dark ritual that would have ended my adopted home. Yet this was only the beginning.

I awake covered in sweat and grime. My body aches like it was torn apart and put back together. I call out in my mind, hoping to speak to my host. We had gone through so much pain, so much joy, that we were closer than lovers. He is silent. I howl in anguish as I realize that my companion is gone. This body is nothing more than a mindless husk. The horrors of the Beyond proved to be too much for my fragile host.

I lay there for I don't know how long. The pain, the suffering, it is eternal. Yet I must carry on. The Dark Lord has yet to pass. I know this for he is gone. There is no blood, no sign of struggle. He woke before me and fled. I do not know why he didn't finish me in my weakened state. I can only thank the Gods for their mercy.

I rise to my shaky feet using a nearby tree for support. I must survive... the Necromancer is still out there his wages unpaid. I will avenge them... even if it is the last thing I do. I grab a sturdy stick and make a makeshift cane from it. I use it to help support my weight as I head east. I have much to do. The Necromancer will pay for his crimes.

A few hours later

I arrive at a small village. I had managed to avoid conflict although I did gain a few wolf hides. I look at the wraps on my leg, side, and arm. I wouldn't have been injured as such if I wasn't so worn out. I was lucky I didn't encounter anything worse. I would have surely died. I sigh as I hobble along the road into the village. A young dark haired woman sees me and rushes to my side.

"By the eight! Are you alright?"

I shake my head.

"I have been better."

I start to wobble and she takes me in her arms offering support.

"Come let me help you!"

I nod and follow along unable to deny her.

"I am going to get you help. Hang in there!"

I sigh.

"I will be fine... just give me a few hours. I am weakened."

She ignores me and takes me into the Riverwood trader.

"Lucan we have to help him!"

He sighs and looks at her.

"Sit him down and come with me."

She nods and sits me in a chair. They go upstairs. Being Goa'uld has its advantages I can hear them whispering furiously. He is telling her to be more wary. I could be a bandit or worse. She is naive and wants to help anyone in danger. They argue about me but in the end her heart wins over his logic. They come down and begin to unwrap my bandages as I pass out.

Orianna walked into the nearby town, skipping over the bridge like a dancer, ignoring the looks and whispers of the few people that were out and about.

"Is that some sort of armor?"

"No, there's something in her back, like a windup key. Look, it's turning as she walks. Like she's some sort of automaton."

"and look at that ball, it's just following her like a puppy."

Orianna walked directly up to one woman who had been whispering to a friend. "Could you direct us to the nearest city?" Orianna gyrated calmly, keeping her eyes on the woman at all times, but the rest of her body twirled and spun in an elaborate dance. "A place that might have summoners." She seemed to listen intently to something while the ball behind her clicked and whirred. "Oh, silly me, I forgot. Could you also tell us what country we currently reside in?" The poor bewildered townswoman could only point to the northeast, towards Solitude.

"Country? This is Skyrim." Orianna froze in mid-dance, listening to the clicking from behind her. The woman backed away slightly.

"We have no record of any Sky-rim... We will be leaving now." Orianna twirled off as suddenly as she had frozen, heading to the Northeast, dancing down the riverside road, only stopping to wind the key in her back with painful-looking contortions.

Whiterun

Gothic studied the map while the shopkeeper watched him like a hawk. Gothic wasn't used to shopping or bartering in this case, as a Jedi he had never had to bother and as a Sith no one would of dared asked him for money so this was a new experience for him. Gothic picked up the map and took it to the counter, he wanted to know more about the local area.

"What are these" he asked pointing to a symbol on the map.

"Forts" replied the shopkeeper "are you going to buy that map?"

Gothic ignored the question and asked one of his own. "Are they all used?"

The shopkeeper didn't answer right away so Gothic glared at him which wasn't a pleasant thing to experience.

"Well I did here that Fort Greymoor had been taken over by bandits" explained the shopkeeper pointing out the Fort on the map. "It's a bit of trek to get there but if you looking to make a name for yourself clearing it out might be a good start".

Gothic had no intention of becoming an adventure, he had other uses for the Fort. The Sith Lord took of one of his gloves showing a silver ring which caught the merchants eye. Gothic took it off and laid it on the counter.

"For the map" he said simply and walked away.

The merchant grabbed the ring and put it on. It was a fine piece worth more than an old map and if his customer was going to take on a group of thugs, well then he wouldn't be needing it much longer.

Orianna hummed a tinny tune as she skipped along the road, enjoying the sights, but still wondering exactly what had happened during the summoning. The Ball watched for danger, hummed along in tune, and occasionally told her what it saw.

The arrow clipped her knee, knocking it slightly out of joint. Orianna looked up the hill at the two archers, one still taking aim while another pair of bandits charged. One with a hammer, one with a sword. Her battle-programming took over.

"Ravage" The ball took off, its blades spinning, taking the charging nords off balance and tearing a great wound in his side. The other one had dodged to the side and was still getting up. Orianna deployed the her knives, the ones that she would have thrown during the match. Another arrow grazed her side, but the hammer-thug was getting closer. Two blades suddenly sprouted from his chest, thrown with un-natural accuracy. The bandit died nearly instantly, the breath gurgling in his throat. The ball hummed triumphantly.

"So strange, they scream, these soft things." She motioned to the ball and it spun up, power crackled off it as it careened towards the archers. They dived to opposite sides to avoid it, but their fears seemed unfounded as it stopped before it reached them.

"HA! You missed." The one on the left yelled. Orianna simply smiled creepily.

"Pull..." The ball boomed, gravity briefly realigning towards the ball. The bandits screamed as they were yanked out of their cover. The ball thudded again, rooting them to their spots and slowing their reactions. Orianna knifed one before walking up to the other, looming over his prone cowering form. "I know how you all tick..." She picked up a knife. "I also know how to make the ticking stop." The bandit died quickly, leaving only the sword-thug who was still bleeding quite a bit. She walked up to him, only to receive a sword to the knee, throwing it off balance thoroughly. The ball smacked him in the face before its blades spun, turning the once proud nord into something that would have looked more at home at the bottom of a blender.

Orianna tried to set her knee back to right, but that would take more time and better tools than could be found on the road like this. She limped off down the road towards Solitude.

Outside Whiterun



Umbramors stood still waiting for the blinding light to fade. It was not that his eyes were blinded, he had not needed them for decades. No, the `holy` magic had scrambled his sight. Slowly the world came back into view. Not his world. He wasn’t in the desert anymore, he was on rock and grass and… There was a castle town of some sorts in front of him.

“Decrepit and falling down.” The iron lich said in a hollow voice, watching as some of the guards on the battlements, if you could really call them that, pointed and yelled at him.

“Drugar!” Came the yell, “What is a Drugar doing this far from the mountains?”

“Drugar, what is this word?” His spear staff was planted in the ground in front of him, he could feel the energy stolen from him returning slowly forming a barrier over his frame, it seemed these people did not know what he was… who he was.

He couldn’t sense any bonejacks around either, or any of his creations. He was not anywhere he could recall existing. If he was truly alone in this place, these locals would need to be befriended if possible. He wasn’t strong enough to fight a town by himself, even one so run down as this.

“I do not recommend attacking me humans…” Umbra watched them with unseeing eyes that glowed with green balefire, “I have done nothing to warrant this ire…”

Fort Greymoor. Evening of Day One.

With the merest of sounds the self proclaimed Dark Lord made his way across the ancient, crumbling walls of the fortress. The Sith used the shadows and his dark cloak to blend in with the dark, this way he avoided the archers posted on the walls. Gothic spotted one of these bowmen standing alone at the edge of the battlements. The green skinned alien ,Gothic would later discover that they are called Orcs, had his trousers down and was urinating into the ditch below. Gothic scowled a little at the sight for the rear end of an Orc was not a pleasant sight.

The Sith Lord took out his secondary weapon a knife. Like the sword he wielded this weapon was infused with darkside energy and could cut through any body armour as well block a thrust from a lightsabre. So it was no surprise to Gothic when the blade sank into the back of the Orc cutting through the leather armour and think hide of the alien with ease.

Gothic summoned the blade back to him and the Orc's body dropped over the wall and landed in the ditch below. The fall made only a light thud and drew no attention. With this guard down Gothic moved on the next.

The other watcher on the wall was a female and looked mostly human ,aside from the pointy ears. She was paying much more attention to her surroundings than the Orc had but she was focused on the landscape not what on what was going on inside the fort. This allowed Gothic to get close.

The Elven female began to choke her breathing stopped as she dropped her bow and reached for her throat. From the shadows Gothic made a gripping motion and squeezed the life out of the women. When she dropped dead Gothic moved on.

The last guard on duty patrolled the courtyard and looked to be alone, however Gothic had reached out with the Force and could sense another. His eyes had adjusted to the low light and he studied the courtyard. It didn't take him long to see the other person.

A figure was wrapped in blankets and seemed to be sleeping near the still warm embers of blacksmith's fire. The night was a cold one so Gothic couldn't blame the person for huddling so close to a source of heat. Still it didn't mean that the Sith warrior would have to be careful for the sleeper awoke he could raise the alarm. Gothic would have to take both men out quietly.

The Sith Lord drew his sword from his scabbard and threw it. The throw forceful but also was rather clumsy, not that it mattered as Gothic was using the Force to guide the sword on its path.

The blade ,like the knife, was imbued with darkside power and it was razor sharp. It severed the man's head from his body in one swift blow. The blade in-bedded itself into stone wall.

The sleeping man didn't awaken and Gothic let out a deep breathe. He was pleased with this because he didn't want to fight a gang of bandits openly for he had no idea what they capable of, their weapons, tactics and fighting styles were all unknown to him so stealth was his only option.

The sleeping man was the easiest to take down, Gothic simply slit his throat as he slept.

Now with outside of the fort cleared it was time to make his way inside. Gothic still had a lot of work to do before he could claim Fort Greymoor for himself.

Several hours later

I awaken in a rough bed. It is still better than the rocky ground I had grown used to sleeping on. I notice that I have new bandages and I am no longer in my clothes. I move myself slightly and sigh contentedly when I notice that I am healed. I begin to sit up.

"Stop! You will hurt yourself."

I snicker as I look at the young woman.

"I assure you that I am fine my dear."

I stand up and undo the bandages revealing scarred skin. Oh well it is times like this that I miss my technology. A Healing Device would not have left a scar. Oh well I will deal with it. I look back to the woman who is gazing at me with wide eyes.

"How?"

I smirk as my eyes flash.

"I am Goa'uld... you may call me Jonah."

She steps back a little worried.

"What is a Goa'uld?"

I laugh as I turn off the Goa'uld voice.

"We are what we are. Now I have told you my name... what is yours?"

She blushes.

"I... I am Camilla Valerius."

I nod and take her hand kissing her knuckles.

"It is a pleasure to meet you."

She is blushing scarlet.

"What happened to you? I mean when I found you."

I step back with a smirk.

"I was attacked by wolves after battling my way through hundreds of Undead to kill a powerful Necromancer. Sadly he managed to escape my blade... speaking of which. Could you direct me to my stuff?"

She does and after I am suited up I am told to head to Whiterun. She hugs me and I bid her farewell. I then walk out of the town ready to continue my adventure.

Solitude

Reforged Oath looked at the gates of the city before him with interest. He woken up much colder than when he'd gone to sleep, and with a city having apparently snuck up on him in the meantime. There was no sign of the 'Immortal' who'd spoken with him last night.. and he was starting to seriously rethink just how little credence he'd given the crazy old hermit's claims.. after all if this wasn't a change in scenery then what was? He watched from under his hat as travelers passed through the gates. Most of them were pale and light haired and he wondered if it was some manner of local chi deviation that caused it. It seemed rather common for all that it looked exotic to him. There were a few he saw enter that seemed to have Earth chi deviations with their gray skin.. surprisingly common as well. What sort of strange land was this?

Oath shook his head and stepped farther back from the road. The obvious guards at the gates were questioning some arrivals and letting others through. He was almost certain he would be one of those interrogated and didn't want to risk something like that at this stage. Pondering his choices the swordsman stepped a bit further from the road when he noticed the peculiar looks some of those who passed close to him were giving him.. probably the smell he thought, considering the constant scent of ash that surrounded him thanks to his reserves of fire-aligned chi. He slipped off into the nearby forest and looked up, scanning the walls.. they seemed clear. Performing one last visual sweep the wulin warrior leaped skyward channeling his chi into his lightfoot kung-fu, use branches to propel himself upward before launching himself at the wall. His well worn travelling shoes hit stone and pushed off again as he bounded up the side of the wall in a pair of quick leaps before vaulting over the top of the all and coming down on a roof on the other side. He quickly jumped down from the roof, landing in an alley before pulling his traveling cloak in close around him to partially hide his sword. Caution would be advised here as he certainly had no clue as to who the players were in this area, and it wouldn't do to upset them. After all, the world of the Wulin was one of crouching tigers and hidden dragons.. even the most apparently harmless person could be a potential threat. He pulled his traveling cloak in tighter around himself to partially hide his scabbarded sword before stepping into the flow of traffic, following it until he reached a crowd clustered around a shackled man.. who moments later was a head shorter. It seemed he'd just witnessed his first execution in this strange land.. definitely another sign that caution was warranted.

He listened to the crowd, hearing a few words come up over and over again.

"Stormcloak" and "traitor" and "usuper". Whoever the man had been he had apparently chosen the wrong side in this confrontation.. now he would just have to make sure that didn't happen to him. After he found himself an inn where he could get a good night's sleep and get in a good night's drinking here.. he was getting dangerously close to being sober, a situation he was sure nobody in town wanted either.. he was a gloomy type when he wasn't drinking at least a little.

The Wulin swordfighter moves down the street, checking the signs on buildings as he went, seeking an inn and an end to his thirst.

Orianna had managed to work her leg back to alignment, but it still stuck on certain movements. The Ball was now acting as a crutch when the leg wouldn't work properly, but she could still move.

The walls of Solitude eventually came into sight, eliciting a sigh of relief and a contented hum from the ball. Perhaps they might have someone intelligent enough to service a hextech golem properly. Orianna approached the gates, ignoring any looks or stares as per usual.

Fort Greymoor. Night of Day One.

Gothic had now killed every bandit in the fortress, he had spared some old women who seemed to be a servant of some kind and gone about the business of looting the place. Darth Gothic intended to stay a while but there was no harm in gathering up his hard earned treasure into one place in case he had to leave, he had even found a suitable chest to store it all in.

The hopefully future Dark Lord of this land had ignored the primitive weapons of this land and the magical potions as he didn't know their true purpose. But he had found a few items of interest, but sadly not as many as he would of liked.

On one bandit he found a ring which had a slight feeling of power with it. It wasn't the Force but it was somehow similar, he had felt in Whiterun as well. Gothic had no idea what this power was but he travelled far and wide in his time so he wasn't going to ignore this feeling.

He had put the ring on and felt something but he didn't know what it was. Later he found an amulet that felt the same and now wore it to. At some point he decided he would seek whatever passed for a scholar around here and ask them.

The rest of the loot was made up of some jewellery which didn't seem to hold the strange energy but nevertheless might sell well so he kept stored them. He also found some strange metal coins which he assumed was what passed for currency on this backwater planet.

His most promising find were the books. Not just because they might sell well but because they contained knowledge of this world, and after all knowledge is power. Thinking of that reminded him of part of the Sith Code.

Through power, I gain victory.

With that in mind Gothic began to seek knowledge. Out of all the books one drew his attention it was about something called Conjuration. Gothic lit a candle, while wishing for a glow rod, and lay down to read. Sith didn't need much sleep so he would spend a few hours reading about these Deadra and how you summoned them.

Come morning he would be glad that he packed for he wouldn't be able to claim ownership of this fort for long.

OB

The end.

"Empty I have nothing useless I failed you my love but I promise you I will not forsake our love again. Not now not ev*clip clop* what was that? I am asleep? No, no no NO I will not end now, I will wake!"

Day one - Nox - Mountains of Winterhold - The ending postponed

*Breath in*"huu"*and out*"haa"*breath in and eyes open*

I look and see a deer this was to be my end? "a bit embarrassing" indeed. I stand and look around me mountains and snow fill one horizon and at my back ice and sea beckons. I feel energy flowing around me the natural Wakfu of life "or better called life energy you never seen before, maybe insulting Gods wasn't a good idea seeing how far we are from home". Home if I could see it "long ago all that you called home drowned away by sea, blood and madness so forget it" that was then and I will always carry my past.

But here I have a new chance I could try to live again "best plan in 200 years!"

Now what are my resources? "All body parts whole, armour cracked but holding dignity intact, natural energy of this plane refueling reserves, eyereceptors working, the Eliacube empty but intact." Not as bad as it could be, now to the mountains or the sea? "You can be buried under rock but you can't drown remember" The sea it is.

Day one evening - Nox - Mountains of Winterhold - East of hob's Fall cave

A few hours and a road is found my fortune is rising "the giant rodents" natural fauna "the wolves" hungry animals "what do you call that giant bear" Karma of course, for a beast to overwhelm me it needs to be a lot quicker "or stronger, having magical abilities, stealth, immunity or being tougher then you all very likely possibilities" moving on.

A human in the distance approaches, riding on an brown animal with four legs to carry burdens "or to crush heads under those hoves". A blue armored soldier with a sword and a bow "With magic arrows?"

From the rocks I quickly approach him "Good evening"

The soldier looks quickly at me seemingly surprised "Who goes there?"

"I am a traveling merchant called Nox" "would anyone believe that without merchandise?"

"Where from do you hail from merchant?" a lot of suspicion in his voice Maybe the glowing eyes, the strange and broken armour or is it the fact that every movement you make is with a mechanical noise what ever could it be?

"The island of Calme far far from here, I would ask for your assistance I have awoken a few hours ago between those mountains behind me robbed and without knowledge where I am, could you enlighten me" "slick very slick"

"That is a sad tale indeed, you are in the county of Winterhold but a few hours journey away from the hold"

"It is sadder that I must admit ignorance to hearing the name Winterhold and that all the lands I see are foreign to me."

"Winterhold the most norther hold of Skyrim, home to the mages college, the hold that half sank into the seas in the Great Collapse, does that sound more familiar?"

"All of those names are new to me holds, Skyrim and colleges?"

"Not even Skyrim home of the hardiest warriors of Tamriel?"

"I am in such a state that not even Tamriel awakens my memories." "I was wondering where you left the drama"

"Then nothing I say will help, I will guide you to the Mages college, hopefully they know what to do with you."

As the soldier or the Nord Stormcloak promised his name is Bjorg yes as Bjorg promised he continued his patrol with me at his back heading to the center of magical knowledge of Skyrim, land of giants and snow and civil war.

Next day

The party had been fun but all good things must come to an end. Drenghul said his farewells to his new friends in Riverwood and set out for Whiterun. That town would prove useful to his needs. After all he needs to make some money.

As Drenghul walks the path he notices a young woman in rags next to an upturned wagon. There are blood stains and a couple dead bodies. She is weeping. Drenghul being a nice guy rushes to her side.

"What happened?"

She looks at him with her red teary face.

"Bandits... they killed my friends and took my daughter!"

Drenghul draws his sword with rage.

"Show me to them."

She nods and begins to run. Drenghul is close behind her. They stop behind a large bolder and look at the camp.

"So this is it?"

She nods.

"Yes this is where she is being held."

She casually draws a dagger. A dozen bandits pop out of camaflaghed holes. Drenghul elbows the woman in the face before she can stab him. He then raises his arms watching as rocks shift into stakes. He quirks his head causing the projectiles to fly at the bandits. Three of the seven are killed. The rest raise their shields blocking the strikes.

Drenghul roars and charges into battle clashing his sword against his foes. He dances around the strikes of his rivals as he slices them with his blade. He smirks as he runs an Orc through the chest with his sword. He pulls it out and flicks his wrist sending two bandits flying into the bolder breaking their bones.

He gasps as he polymorphs a sword into smoke just as the blade pierced the skin of his back. He twirls his sword bringing the blade under his armpit and into the chest of the Bosmer behind him. He then kicks the wood elf off of the sword. He groans in pain as he ties the woman up. He smacks her across the face waking her up.

"Please don't hurt me!"

Drenghul glares at her.

"You tried to get me killed. Explain or die."

She is openly weeping again.

"They do have my daughter! They said that if I didn't help them lay traps they would kill her."

Drenghul is unamused.

"I will save your daughter... you on the other hand."

As he paused mid sentence he ran his sword through her chest. He watched impassively as she coughed blood. A moment later and she was limp.

"I do not take betrayal lightly."

He looked at the camp and transformed. A great shriek filled the area as a multicolored beast took to the sky.

Freyr the Firewing

8th of Rain’s Hand 4E 201

Chillfurrow Farm

He watched as the mage and the rest of his brood, the majority of them using what draconic attributes they had managed to dragon down through the millennia to their current, human, bodies stormed through a portal that the mage had made.

He could sense it, even though he was a good twenty metres away, having been dealing with something that looked like it had crawled out of a tomb. The taint in the portal made him feel sick. Damn mage must have been something Tainted, no matter what faction he belonged to in this crazy world.

Cutting down another walking dead thing with his blade, he charged towards the portal. His broodmates had gone in there to follow that taint-spawn; he wasn’t going to leave them to die. There were other broods in England that could take up the slack while they were gone.

Diving into the portal, he growled as he called on the power of his dragon soul, trying to use what karma was left to make himself manifest. Scales replaced skin as his body stretched and changed, large feathered wings sprouted from under his shoulder blades, an old spell on his coat allowing it to change around them, taking them into account as he fell into a chaotic swirl of colour and mist.

Lightning sparked from somewhere, striking him in the wing, causing him to howl in pain as his face changed, nose and mouth melting into a snout. He gritted his teeth as more lightning struck him, trying to keep from screaming as he tumbled out of control for a moment, an eternity.

He exploded out into the air, in the middle of what looked like a severely localised storm, similar to some of his kin’s abilities. Unfortunately he was also several hundred feet up. Swearing, he managed to right himself in the air, spreading his wings and grunting in pain as they filled with air, more than a few feathers tearing free and leaving bloody trails.

Gliding down, he touched down in a field, and ended up rolling head over heels as his landing failed to drop enough momentum that he could stand up. He finally came to a stop against a fence and flopped back with a groan. That had been worse than it should have been; still… he reached out a hand, summoning magicka in the air to heat his blood and ward off the chill from having rolled along snowy ground, frowning as he found it flowing much cleaner and faster in this world.

“Are you alright there?” A raspy voice called out, making him sit up to see a dark green lizard-woman dressed in fairly heavy looking furs. “That was quite a fall you took.”

He snorted softly, flicking his tail as he climbed to his feet, furling his wings against his back carefully. They ached, but they didn’t seem to have any broken bones… yet. “You don’t know the half of it,” he replied, his voice coming out deeper than normal, normally in his dragon form, he stuck to mind speech, but that only worked with his brood. “You haven’t seen any others around here have you? Ones that look similar to me?”

The lizard shook her head. “No, none like you, stranger.” She replied, looking him up and down. “If there are any around here though, it would be best to seek them in Whiterun. It would be best to travel there anyway, I’ve heard rumours of dragons prowling the lands… and they do not take kindly to mortals.” She sighed. “At least the Dovahkiin is around to slay them.”

Frowning, he flicked his tail. That didn’t sound good, if dragons in this world were antagonistic towards other things, then there would be a battle sooner or later that would leave dozens or more dead for the ravens and crows. He quietly pressed his wings closer to his back, not wanting this female to see them and make an assumption about him. “It is as good a plan as any.” He said, flicking his tail as he checked to ensure his blade was back in its sheathe, fortunately it was. “My name is Freyr, and you are?”

“Sundew, merchant,” She replied as he climbed the fence to join her and her horse. “What were you doing falling onto Chillfurrow Farm?”

Freyr shrugged. “My friends and I were chasing a mage, he managed to make a portal and I ended up here.” He said as they started off down the road, the female clicking her tongue at a cart horse dragging a cart full of goods. “Right now, I need to find them, find the mage and find a way back to where we started.”

Freyr the Firewing

8th of Rain’s Hand 4E 201 – Afternoon

Whiterun

It had been a surprisingly short journey along the road to the town of Whiterun, and gazing up at it only confirmed what Freyr already knew, that wherever he was, it wasn’t any place on Earth, not unless the portal had been through time rather than through space. That said, none of his memories matched up either, and several of them were from longer ago than most humans had recorded history.

As they approached the city, he frowned, seeing a cloaked figure leaving and heading further west. It was probably nothing, but something about that one made him feel a little uneasy. It was probably a good thing the cloaked figure had put him on edge, as it meant when two green-skins in black and brown leather rushed at him and Sundew yelling something.

Turning quickly, he tapped the karma flowing around them and caught one of the pair with his gaze. That one slowed, stumbling as Freyr’s magic brought forth every little fear in the creature’s heart. Flicking his tail, he diverted some of the magical flow through him, feeling his blood rush through his veins, his eyes starting to burn an angry red as smoke floated from his nostrils.

The second creature, a classic looking orc closed his eyes and roared as he charged, seeing his comrade freeze up from a look at the Ailiaar, swinging his blade wildly.

Freyr yelped as the blade cut through his scales, smoking blood erupting from the wound as if it was in a volcano to splatter on the orc, causing it to howl in turn as it scalded its flesh.

Drawing his sword as Sundew drew a short dagger; Freyr turned his attention to the still active orc, allowing the other to collapse. He brought his sword around to block several blows, thanking god that he had decided to train with the blade after finding his broodmates the first time. The fact that one of them had been a master swordsman had really been useful.

Blocking another blow, he glanced up, hearing shouting from the town. Something about a ‘drugar’, whatever those were. His distraction cost him another wound on the shoulder, but the gout of blood blinded the orc in return as it got into his eyes. Stepping back as it thrashed around blindly, he heard a crunch and looked up to see a dagger sticking out of the thing’s head, causing it to topple over.

Turning to look at his companion, Freyr nodded. “Nice throw,” He commented as Sundew moved to retrieve her dagger.

“I… I wouldn’t have been able to do it if you hadn’t distracted them.” She replied, her tail twitching nervously. “Not against Dark Brotherhood assassins.”

Freyr scowled, watching for a moment as she deftly stripped everything valuable from the dead assassin before moving to do the same to the one he had paralysed with his gaze. “Why would they be after you?” He asked, removing a couple of daggers, a red potion and a handful of small coins from his paralysed foe. Maybe there would be a bounty for killing these idiot orcs, but there had to be a reason for them to have been here in the first place.

Sundew shrugged, rolling the dead assassin’s armour up and loading it onto her cart. “I don’t know, several of my competitors might have decided that they want me dead rather than just out of business and performed the ritual to summon the Brotherhood.” She replied, twitching her tail. “If that’s the case… I’d feel safer in the town… and with both of them dead.”

He shook his head. “I won’t kill a helpless foe, but I doubt he’ll be recovering for a while. We can bind him and hand him over to whoever rules the town for execution, let the hangman do the deed.” He looked at the cart for a moment, frowning. “You have any rope in there?”

Nodding, Sundew fetched some of her spare rope and watched as Freyr tied it around the orc, who was starting to shiver. She watched as he glared into the orc’s eyes for a moment, causing it to let out a choked whimper and go still, making her shiver. Whatever he was doing, it had to be scary, and there was that thing with his wounds causing the other orc to burn… she glanced at him, frowning as she noticed the wounds were visibly healing. He was too big to be a normal Argonian, and the wrong colours, so what was he?

Once he was finished and the orc assassin was strapped to her horse, they started for Whiterun again. “What was that that you did in the fight?” Sundew asked softly.

“It’s a trick, a lot of people where I come from can alter their body with magic, I can do it to heat myself up. I can also make myself an animal’s best friend, or a person’s worst fear, amongst other things.” Freyr replied making his way around towards the fortress town, his blade still drawn just in case more trouble erupted.

As they got closer, they hear more yelling from the guards about a ‘drugar’, causing him to frown. “What are drugar?” He asked as they rounded the bend to see a metal encased walking dead thing in front of the town gates.

Sundew swallowed. “Undead, ancient zombies, like that thing.” She replied, pointing out the metal liche in front of the gate and drawing back behind him, blinking as she saw something on his back shift in response. “They normally hide in tombs and attack anything that gets in their way.”

Freyr frowned, shifting his wings slightly. “Well this one isn’t attacking, maybe it’ll be less unfriendly… not that I like the thought of dealing with the dead.” He said the last bit little more than a whisper. Twitching his tail, he motioned for Sundew to follow him as they approached the gates. “What seems to be the problem here?” He asked.

Whiterun

The great rainbow colored Couatl flew through the air approaching Whiterun. Guards shouted from below.

"Dragon!"

They aimed their arrows as I looped through the air going into a dive. As I approached the ground I shifted into my human form. My long serpentine body writhing as it shrank. I landed on the ground gracefully to find dozens of men aiming their bows and drawing their swords.

"How rude."

I glance around seeing the Lich, and the lizard guy.

"Can you guys please lower your weapons. I mean no harm."

Freyr the Firewing

8th of Rain’s Hand 4E 201 – Afternoon

Whiterun

Freyr sighed at the yells from the humans. He was one, but he was also dragon, a child of fire and the elements. Back in the days of Atlantis, he and his brood had been the most powerful beings around, but there were always those that would rather fight them.

He glanced over his shoulder at Sundew. She had told him not hours ago that the dragons of this world weren’t friendly to the mortals under them. Closing his eyes for a moment, he walked forwards and grounded his sword.

“Were I you, dragon, I would stick to your current form.” He said, keeping a watch as the guards moved to cover him as well. “Those with wings are a threat to those living here for one reason or another.” He said, fixing one of the guards with a glare that had him staggering backwards until he fell off the parapet with a yelp, “Though I agree that shooting first is not the best plan when not all of us wish a war.”

I snort.

"I am not a dragon. I am a Couatl. Don't confuse me with those arrogant greedy beasts."

I polymorph a rock into a chair and take a seat.

"Would you like a glass of wine?"

I hold out my hand as the air coalesces into a glass of white zinfandel. I take a sip.

"Nice stuff."

Freyr the Firewing

8th of Rain’s Hand 4E 201 – Afternoon

Whiterun

Someone needed a few lessons in manners it seemed. Freyr snorted, rolling his eyes at the display of power, flicking a glance up at the guards as they shift and mutter to one another. “Funny, you sound exactly like a brood-mate of mine, down to the showing off in front of everyone.” He commented.

It was tempting to use his own magic to convince the local flora to craft a chair for him as well, but it wasn’t worth the aggravation of dealing with a completely new ecosystem in one go. Instead, Freyr pulled his sword out of the ground and sheathed it before moving back to lean against Sundew’s cart.

“Wh-what is he?” Sundew asked, pulling back to be nearer her saviour and goods. “Is he like Sheogorath? Is he a daedric prince?”

Freyr shook his head, flicking his tail. “No, just someone with more power than he knows what to do with it seems.” He replied, though if he was honest, he had no idea just who this Sheogorath was, nor what a daedric prince was. He looked up at the soldiers still hanging out on the parapet. “Though it doesn’t look like we’re going to get anywhere at the moment, since I doubt they want to let a dragon and a drugar into the town, at least as far as they’re concerned.” He could probably do something about it, and he could simply leave and go elsewhere, but he didn’t want to leave Sundew around here. Besides the town would be the easiest place to resupply and get some maps, maybe more. “Hey!” He called, catching the attention of some of the archers. “You guys have a mayor or something in the town right?”

“It’s a Jarl,” Sundew put in, flicking her tail, “Jarl Balgruuf the Greater.”

Freyr nodded, “How about one of you gets the Jarl? It’s his town, why don’t we ask him if we can come in?”

Umbra looked at these new arrivals. One of which looked a little like a dragon. He didn't know wether to be annoyed at it, or honoured by its presense. The other thing was an annoying array of colour that was an afront to his eyes and its words against dragons

"That noisy people this place has." He stated in a rasping voice looking at the new people, "I find in the past leaders of... towns like this are unlikely to come before others. Cowards as they are."

There was a whistle of an arrow as it impacted harmlessly against the now hard outside of Umbra. A wave of his hand was it crumble and rot.

"Barbarians."

Slowly he turned to the three others, one seemed of this world, the other two from her reaction and theres were less so.

"You are not from here or from where I am." Umbra stated, "Do not fear my looks, I mean you no harm. Too many people judge others on what they see."

He pointed his staff at those on the walls with a glint on black iron and magic,

"Like the uncouth people that way."

Sigh what might have passed as a sigh he looked at each of them. He was unsure if he even wanted into this run down town. of even how they would react inside to him even if he was. Maybe he could make a reputation for himself as traveler or good person.