If you want to read 20 Chapters ahead and more, be sure to check out my P-Tang12!!!
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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
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"Two ancient weapons to open the final door," Aeloria summarized, completely buying the deception. "Then we had better start hunting. Lead the way, Aerion." Aerion smiled, a dark, incredibly sociopathic gleam flashing in his golden eyes. The deception was done perfectly. The Dragonborn was officially hunting the boss of Volunruud, entirely convinced she was fulfilling the Greybeards' sacred trial.
Aerion snapped the small, leather bound journal shut, the heavy thud of the old parchment echoing softly in the absolute, freezing silence of the crypt's antechamber. He slipped Heddic's doomed notes into his dark robes, his flawless, aristocratic face completely set in a mask of grim, scholarly determination.
But the ancient dead of Skyrim rarely allowed interlopers to linger in peace.
Before Aerion could issue the order to continue their descend, a dry, horrific sound of grinding stone and clicking bone echoed from the shadows directly to their left.
Slumped casually upon a carved stone throne just a few feet away was a skeleton that had previously appeared entirely inanimate.
Suddenly, the hollow, empty eye sockets flared with a sickly, ethereal blue light. The ancient bones violently jerked, the skeleton pushing itself up from the chair with terrifying, unnatural speed. Its bony fingers clamped tightly around the rusted, iron banded haft of an ancient Nord handaxe resting beside the throne.
It raised the blade, lunging directly toward the High Elf's exposed flank.
Aerion did not flinch. He did not even bother to raise a hand to cast a ward. His transmigrator mind had already registered the ambient necromantic energy of the room the moment they descended the stairs. He simply watched the periphery.
Before the skeleton could take a second step, a blur of heavy steel intercepted its path.
Lydia moved with the absolute, uncompromising brutality of a seasoned Housecarl. She did not hesitate, and she did not shout a battle cry. She simply lunged forward, her heavy steel shield leading the charge.
She violently bashed the rim of her shield directly into the skeleton's ribcage, the kinetic force staggering the undead construct and knocking the rusted axe entirely off balance.
Without missing a fraction of a beat, Lydia pivoted smoothly, bringing her heavy steel sword around in a devastating, horizontal executioner's sweep.
The blade sheared cleanly through the skeleton's cervical vertebrae. The skull popped off the spine, flying into the darkness, while the rest of the bones instantly lost their necromantic cohesion, collapsing into a heap of useless, clattering white splinters upon the cold stone floor.
The entire engagement had lasted less than two seconds.
Valdemar, Jenassa, and Aeloria, all being highly seasoned, battle-hardened warriors, had instantly dropped their hands to their weapons at the sound of grinding bone, but they immediately relaxed their postures upon seeing the threat neutralized. None of them were particularly surprised by the ambush, skeletons were the absolute lowest tier of crypt security.
Aerion turned to his newly appointed Housecarl, a genuinely impressed, highly approving smile touching his lips.
"Impeccable reaction speed, Lydia," Aerion praised her smoothly, his golden eyes sweeping over the shattered bones. "Your vigilance is needed in such time. I did not even have the time to channel a spell before the threat was taken care off."
Lydia sheathed her sword with a sharp, metallic scrape, her expression completely stoic, though a brief flash of deep pride shone in her dark eyes.
"I am your shield, Thane Aerion," Lydia replied crisply. "Nothing touches you while I draw breath."
"Let us hope that trend continues," Aerion noted. "Form up. We continue down."
They left the shattered skeleton behind, moving cautiously down the dark, wide stone staircase that descended deeper into the earth. The air grew noticeably colder, carrying the heavy, suffocating stench of stale dust, dried embalming fluids, and the metallic tang of ancient blood.
They reached the bottom of the stairs, passing through a wide, open iron gate that looked like an ancient portcullis.
They stepped into the massive, sprawling main hall of the crypt.
The architecture was imposing, featuring high, vaulted ceilings supported by massive stone pillars carved with the intricate, twisting knotwork of the ancient Nords. The room was illuminated only by the faint, eerie glow of subterranean fungi and the occasional dusty shaft of moonlight piercing through microscopic cracks in the cavern roof.
Aerion's transmigrator mind instantly mapped the geography of the chamber.
There were four entrances leading out of the main hall.
His eyes briefly darted toward the entrance situated on the far right wall. He knew exactly what lay down that specific, isolated corridor. It was a small, relatively unremarkable side chamber. In the distant future of the game's timeline, that exact room would be utilized by Amaund Motierre, a Breton noble, to secretly hire the Dark Brotherhood to assassinate Vittoria Vici and Emperor Titus Mede II.
'A fascinating footnote,' Aerion mused inwardly, completely dismissing the corridor. 'But from a purely logistical standpoint, there is absolutely nothing of value down there. No artifacts, no significant gold, and no plot progression for this specific quest. It is a dead end.'
He turned his focus squarely upon the three primary entrances situated at the far end of the hall.
Directly in front of them, heavily sealed and imposing, was the massive, double-iron door leading into the Elder's Cairn, the primary sanctum where Kvenel the Tongue, the dual wielding Death Overlord, awaited.
To bypass that central door, they required the two ceremonial replicas of the ancient weapons, Eduj and Okin.
And to acquire those, they needed to breach the two branching corridors situated to the immediate left and right of the main doors.
Aeloria stepped up beside the High Elf, her battleaxe resting casually across her heavy steel shoulder. She surveyed the three identical, dark archways, her brow furrowing in tactical consideration.
"Well, Aerion," Aeloria asked, her voice hushed. "The journal you found said we need two ancient weapons to open the way forward. Which path should we take first? The left, or the right?"
Aerion stood in the center of the hall, his golden eyes sweeping over his heavily armed strike team. He did not answer immediately. His highly analytical mind was actively processing the logistical reality of the dungeon.
Volunruud was vast, and the branching paths were long and heavily populated with Draugr. If the entire team of five marched down the left path, cleared it, backtracked all the way to the main hall, and then marched down the right path as a single unit, the expedition would take hours. It was highly inefficient.
'We need to divide and conquer, 'Aerion concluded mathematically. 'However, an even split is impossible with five personnel. It will have to be an asymmetrical split.'
Aerion turned to face the group, raising his hands slightly to command their attention.
"Actually, Aeloria," Aerion proposed smoothly, his melodic voice echoing softly off the stone walls. "I have a vastly more efficient tactical proposition. I suggest we split the team into two separate group."
The suggestion immediately caused a ripple of surprise through the group.
Jenassa, the fiercely pragmatic Morag Tong assassin, immediately stepped forward, her crimson eyes narrowed in sharp, professional skepticism.
"Is that truly the wisest course of action, Patron?" Jenassa questioned directly, not bothering to sugarcoat her concerns. "You are our mage with firepower it taking down these Draugrs much easier, yes. But more importantly, you possess an uncanny, almost supernatural ability to detect the hidden pressure plates, tripwires, and magical triggers that these ancient Nords have laced throughout their tombs. If we separate, the team that ventures into the dark without you will be entirely blind to the traps around."
Aerion nodded his head slowly, acknowledging the absolute validity of her concern. It was a perfectly sound argument.
"I completely understand your apprehension, Jenassa," Aerion replied calmly, projecting the persona of a wise, cautious scholar. "And under normal circumstances, I would entirely agree. If I possessed the ability to clone myself, I would gladly keep the entire group operating under a single, unified command structure."
He gestured to the sprawling, dark archways.
"However, we must consider the variable of time," Aerion reasoned flawlessly, maintaining his grand deception. "We do not know the depths of this 'Ustengrav'. If we proceed as a single unit down one path, only to find a dead end, and then backtrack, we will exhaust our stamina and time unnecessarily. We need to secure the artifacts simultaneously to breach the sanctum."
He then played his trump card, reinforcing the lie he had planted in the antechamber.
"Furthermore," Aerion lied with smooth, convincing humility, "I must admit that while I know the general lore of this specific crypt, I do not possess an intimate, step by step knowledge of its interior layout. The level of environmental danger will be relatively identical regardless of my presence. I will be walking into the dark just as blindly as the rest of you."
The group murmured softly amongst themselves, exchanging glances. Aeloria weighed the heavy handle of her axe, looking at the two dark corridors.
"He makes a fair point, Jenassa," Aeloria conceded, her Nordic bravery overriding her caution. "We are wasting time standing here. We can handle a few traps and walking corpses."
"Very well," Jenassa sighed, yielding to the logic of time.
"So, how do we separate the ranks?" Aeloria asked, looking back at the High Elf. "We have five warriors and Lupin. It's an uneven split."
Aerion had already finalized the roster in his mind.
He needed to balance the raw, physical protection of the other team against his own, entirely self sufficient, vastly overpowered magical capabilities.
The path to the right held the weapon Okin, guarded by a relatively standard Draugr Wight with many Draugrs. It was dangerous, but entirely manageable for a coordinated physical unit, since the layout also helped.
The path to the left, however, held Eduj... and it was heavily populated with vastly higher tier undead.
He knew perfectly well that his raw magical output, recently supercharged by his legendary resets and mass attribute point allocations, was more than enough to solo an entire group of ten to fifteen normal bandits, let alone a crypt full of slow moving Draugr.
"For the safety of the second group, we will execute an asymmetrical split," Aerion commanded smoothly. "Aeloria, Valdemar, and Jenassa. You three will form the second group. You will take the right entrance."
He looked directly at the Morag Tong assassin.
"Jenassa, I am explicitly assigning you to Aeloria's flank," Aerion instructed. "I may not be there to spot the traps, but you possess the sharpest, most perceptive eyes among the mortals here. You are the designated scout for that unit. Keep the Dragonborn safe from the tripwires."
Jenassa offered a sharp, lethal nod. "I will ensure the path is clear, Patron."
"And as for the left entrance," Aerion continued, turning his golden eyes toward his newly appointed Whiterun protector. "Lydia and I will breach it together. Lupin will accompany our flank."
Lydia instantly stepped to his side, her heavy steel shield raised, her posture radiating absolute, unwavering readiness. She did not question the fact that she was the sole physical protector for the mage, she simply accepted the immense responsibility.
The division of forces was logical, sound, and universally agreed upon.
"We retrieve the weapons, and we rendezvous back here in the main hall," Aerion finalized the orders. "Do not engage the main big warded doors without the other group present. Move out."
Aeloria, Valdemar, and Jenassa immediately broke off, marching with heavy, determined steps toward the dark archway on the right side of the hall. Their armor clattered softly as they disappeared into the gloom, leaving Aerion and Lydia alone in the center of the cavernous room.
Aerion turned to face the left entrance.
"Stay close, Lydia," Aerion murmured softly. "The dead in this specific wing are likely to be heavily agitated."
"At your back, my Thane," Lydia confirmed.
Aerion, Lydia, and the small cinnamon fox stepped through the left archway. They moved quickly through a short, dark, descending stone hallway, their boots echoing softly against the ancient masonry. The air here was incredibly dense, thick with the smell of rotting linen and freezing dust.
They reached a heavy, rusted iron door blocking the path. Aerion reached out, his long fingers grasping the freezing iron ring, and pushed it open. The hinges shrieked loudly in the silence, completely ruining any element of stealth.
They stepped through the threshold, entering a long, wide, beautifully carved ancient tomb hall.
The architecture here was explicitly designed for mass burial. The walls on both the left and right sides of the corridor were lined with dozens of deep, rectangular stone alcoves.
Resting within nearly every single alcove were the desiccated, wrapped bodies of ancient Nordic warriors, their rusted iron swords resting across their withered chests.
As Aerion and Lydia walked down the center of the hall, the ambient necromantic energy of the tomb reacted violently to the presence of the living.
To their immediate left, the heavy, dusty linen wrappings of a Draugr suddenly shifted. The corpse's eyes flared with blinding blue light. It let out a horrific, dry, rattling hiss, violently pushing itself out of the stone alcove and raising a rusted iron broadsword.
It never even had the chance to fully stand up.
Lydia moved with the terrifying, relentless efficiency of a machine. She stepped into the Draugr's guard, violently slamming the heavy steel boss of her shield directly into its jaw, shattering the ancient bone. As the Draugr staggered backward, Lydia drove her steel blade straight through its decaying chest cavity, pinning it instantly back into its own burial alcove.
Before Lydia could even pull her blade free, the sound of grinding stone erupted from the opposite wall.
Three more Draugr violently awakened, their blue eyes burning in the dark, stumbling out of their alcoves with rusted axes raised high.
Aerion did not reach for a physical weapon. He did not even bother casting a fireball. He simply raised his left hand, his golden eyes narrowing with absolute, divine authority.
He engaged his newly leveled Restoration skills. Purify.
A massive, blindingly bright, localized explosion of pure, searing golden white holy light violently erupted from his palm. The sheer intensity of the divine magic acted like a physical shockwave of absolute purification.
The holy light washed completely over the three advancing Draugr.
The effect was instantaneous and utterly devastating. The unholy, necromantic magicka animating the corpses was violently, aggressively incinerated.
The Draugr didn't just fall, they shrieked in absolute agony as their withered flesh, ancient armor, and rusted weapons actively dissolved into fine, drifting gray ash before they even hit the floorboards.
The tomb hall fell completely silent once more, the drifting ash settling softly over the cobblestones.
"The hall is cleansed," Aerion announced smoothly, lowering his hand.
Lydia pulled her sword free from the first Draugr, staring at the piles of ash with profound reverence. "Your magic is a blessing from the Divines themselves, my Thane."
"Efficiency is the ultimate blessing, Lydia," Aerion noted dryly. "Let us continue."
They pressed forward, navigating through a crumbling archway and descending a long, steep flight of ancient stone stairs that led even deeper into the belly of the crypt.
As they reached the landing, the path widened into a large, circular intersection. The moment their boots touched the floor, the shadows violently came alive.
Half a dozen Draugr awakened simultaneously from the surrounding alcoves. But these were not the standard, shambling corpses they had faced above. Standing at the rear of the undead formation, their eyes burning with a vastly more intense, concentrated blue light, were two Draugr Wights. They wore heavy, ancient Nordic armor that had not yet rusted away, and they wielded perfectly honed ancient greatswords.
"Wights! Heavily armored!" Lydia shouted, immediately dropping into a defensive crouch behind her shield.
"Hold the center, Lydia!" Aerion commanded.
He stepped slightly behind her steel vanguard, raising both of his hands. He rapidly dual cast his Purify spell, funneling massive amounts of his vastly expanded magicka pool into the divine magic.
He unleashed a continuous, sweeping beam of blinding golden light across the room. The four standard Draugr were instantly vaporized into ash, entirely clearing the frontline.
The two heavily armored Draugr Wights, possessing vastly denser necromantic cores, managed to resist the initial blast of holy light. Their ancient armor smoked and hissed, but they charged forward, raising their massive greatswords to cleave the High Elf in half.
Lydia intercepted them flawlessly. She caught the first greatsword on her raised shield, the heavy impact ringing like a blacksmith's anvil, forcing the Wight backward. She expertly parried the second Wight's thrust with her own blade, redirecting the lethal momentum completely away from Aerion.
With the Wights stalled by the Whiterun steel, Aerion simply shifted his stance. He dropped the Restoration magic and instantly conjured a concentrated, hyper dense sphere of Incinerate plasma in his right palm.
He stepped around Lydia's flank and slammed the plasma directly into the chest plate of the first Wight. The superheated magic instantly melted through the ancient armor, violently detonating the undead creature's core and blowing it backward in a shower of sparks and burning ash.
Lydia capitalized on the distraction perfectly, driving her broadsword cleanly through the neck of the remaining Wight, decapitating it in a single, brutal strike.
The heavy, armored body collapsed to the floor, lifeless once more.
They took a brief moment to catch their breath in the quiet intersection, the smell of ozone and burning dust thick in the air.
"We are close to the terminus of this wing," Aerion analyzed, his mental map tracking their depth.
They proceeded through a narrow, highly unstable entranceway, the stone ceiling held up by thick, rotting wooden support beams. The path abruptly transitioned from carved stone into a steep, natural cavern tunnel. They carefully navigated down a long, treacherous, zig zagging dirt slope, their boots sliding slightly on the loose gravel and damp earth.
At the absolute bottom of the steep dirt slope, completely isolated from the rest of the crypt, stood a massive, incredibly heavy, beautifully reinforced Iron Door.
It was the final threshold.
Aerion stopped completely, raising a hand to halt Lydia before they even reached the bottom of the slope.
His transmigrator mind instantly flagged the location. He knew exactly what was waiting behind that specific iron door. The chamber beyond held the ceremonial weapon Eduj.
And because of the scaling mechanics of the crypt, it was practically guaranteed to be guarded by at least one, if not two, Draugr Deathlords.
"Hold position," Aerion whispered, his voice dropping to a barely audible register. He smoothly dropped into a low, silent crouch, his dark robes pooling around his boots.
Lydia immediately mirrored his stance, crouching low behind her shield, her eyes scanning the shadows.
"Wait here, Lydia," Aerion instructed softly, gesturing for the Housecarl to remain on the slope. "I will approach the threshold and peek on the next area."
Lydia's protective instincts flared instantly. She gripped the rim of her shield tightly, a look of fierce, stubborn objection crossing her face.
"I must protest, my Thane," Lydia whispered back urgently, her tone laced with absolute duty. "It is my sworn duty to take the vanguard. If there are horrors waiting behind that door, I must be the one to breach it and draw their wrath. Please, allow me to be the one doing it."
Aerion turned his head, his golden eyes locking onto hers with an expression of absolute, unyielding command that completely brokered no argument.
"Your duty is to protect me, Lydia," Aerion whispered firmly. "And the most effective way you can protect me right now is by remaining perfectly silent and obeying my tactical directives. If there are high tier undead in that chamber, the clanking of your heavy steel armor will alert them before we even turn the handle. I am a mage. My footfalls are silent. Wait here."
Lydia hesitated for a fraction of a second, but the sheer, uncompromising authority of the Thane overrode her protests. She lowered her head slightly.
"As you command," Lydia yielded silently.
Aerion turned back to the door. He engaged his significantly leveled Sneak skill, his movements becoming impossibly fluid and entirely soundless. He glided down the final stretch of the dirt slope like a shadow cast by the moon.
He reached the heavy iron door. He didn't grab the rusted ring; he placed his palms flat against the cold metal, utilizing his raw, augmented physical strength to slowly, meticulously apply perfectly even pressure. The door groaned softly, a microscopic sound, as he pushed it open just a few inches.
Aerion slipped his face near the crack, peering carefully into the dimly lit, cavernous chamber beyond.
He scanned the room. His golden eyes locked onto the raised stone dais at the far end of the chamber.
Aerion let out a soft, completely silent click of his tongue, a deep frown of profound tactical irritation settling over his flawless features.
'Two,' Aerion confirmed internally, analyzing the threat. 'There are two of them.'
Pacing slowly, menacingly across the raised stone platform were two Draugr Deathlords.
They were massive, terrifyingly imposing figures, towering over standard Draugr. Their ancient, withered flesh was completely wrapped in thick, intricately carved, heavy ancient Nordic plate armor.
But what truly gave away their horrific, high tier status were the massive, distinctively terrifying helmets resting upon their decaying skulls, thick, heavy iron helms sporting two long, sweeping, jagged horns that curved menacingly toward the ceiling.
But it wasn't the helmets that made Aerion's strategic mind grind its gears. It was their armaments.
The Deathlords were not wielding rusted iron or ancient Nordic steel.
The first Deathlord, stalking the left side of the dais, carried a massive, impossibly heavy Greatsword forged entirely from pitch black, gleaming Ebony metal. The razor sharp edge seemed to absorb the ambient light of the room. The second Deathlord, standing perfectly still on the right, held a masterfully crafted Ebony Bow, an entire quiver of heavy, armor piercing Ebony arrows strapped to its back.
Ebony. The absolute apex of mortal metallurgy. A single strike from that greatsword would cause great damage through Lydia's standard steel shield and knocked her back greatly. A single arrow from that bow would cause quite the dent on her breastplate.
But the weapons were only the secondary threat.
Aerion knew the mechanics of Deathlords. He knew that their vocal cords were not entirely decayed. He knew that they possessed the ability to actively utilize the Thu'um.
'If we simply charge into that room, they will Shout,' Aerion calculated rapidly, analyzing the impending disaster. 'The archer will likely utilize the Disarm shout, which will instantly, violently rip Lydia's sword and shield entirely out of her hands, leaving her completely defenseless against the melee unit. And the greatsword wielder will undoubtedly utilize Unrelenting Force, blasting us both violently backward into the stone walls and stunning us long enough for an execution.'
A massive, deeply frustrated sigh echoed within his transmigrator mind.
'If I were alone,' Aerion thought bitterly, his mind flashing to the newly acquired completed Fus Ro Dah currently burning at the back of his throat.
If he didn't have to maintain his cover as a simple, humble scholar. If he didn't have to worry about the geopolitical implications of a High Elf wielding the ancient Nordic power. If he could just cut loose... he would simply kick the iron doors wide open, draw a massive breath, and completely, violently obliterate the two Deathlords with his own Unrelenting Force.
He would blast them off the dais, shatter their bones against the far wall before they could even draw their Ebony weapons, and then casually rain apocalyptic Destruction magic down upon them.
It would be over in three seconds.
'But I cannot Shout,' Aerion resigned himself coldly. 'Aeloria is the Dragonborn. The myth must remain hers alone, at least for now. I cannot reveal my hand over a pair of decaying corpses.'
Aerion slowly pulled his face away from the crack in the door, his mind actively discarding the divine solution and rapidly constructing a vast, vastly more complex, incredibly lethal, purely arcane tactical protocol to dismantle the Ebony wielding horrors. He slipped seamlessly back up the dirt slope, returning to the crouched Housecarl. "Lydia," Aerion whispered, his golden eyes burning with absolute, lethal focus. "Draw your sword. We have quite the problem on the other side."
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[Main Panel]
Name: Aerion
Race: High Elf (Altmer)
Health: 540/540 Stamina: 560/560 Magicka: 750/750
Level: 145
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(+3)/Lightning(+1)/Frost(+1)) (Level 42/76/41), Restoration (Healing(+1)/Purify(+2)) (Level 31/25), Alteration (Level 35), Illusion (Level 50), Conjuration (Necromancy/Summoning(+1)) (Level 37/26), Persuasion(+1) (Level 89), 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(+1) (Level 0), Block (Level 70), & Pickpocket (Level 8)
Shouts: Fus Roh Dah (Force Balance Push), 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 / 580 KG
Septims: 82,277