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I, Draugr Chapter 48
🕑 Added 2025-06-06 17:28:12 +0000 UTCDawnbreaker hacked down mercilessly, smashing and slightly cracking the frozen blade overflowing with catastrophic amounts of Magicka.
The immense heat flowing out of the solar blade swelled, its radiance reaching near-blinding levels as Aurelia pressed down, forcing the tall frozen warrior before her to fall on one knee.
Her gaze flicked upward, past the now kneeling giant, where ten more were rushing down the street with weapons in hand.
Her foot lashed out, and the kneeling warrior was sent hurling into his rushing companions, and Aurelia doesn't even blink when a white-hot beam of flames flies over her shoulder and towards the group.
The beam smashes into the chest of the flying Atmoran before exploding into a colossal dome of immense heat and force, flash-melting the street and surrounding buildings with laughable ease.
"This is one hell of a welcoming party…" Hildr muses softly from behind Aurelia, who nods with a heavy frown on her pale face.
Twirling Dawnbreaker, Aurelia lowers her stance, "Don't lower your guard." She warns just as the Atmorans rush out of pillar of smoke left behind by the explosion created by Hildr's spell.
The redhead scoffed at the charging Atmorans who showed no sign of injury or having been slowed down due to the explosion.
Each of them stood taller than two meters, with muscular, well-trained body clad in dense dark armor that was now covered in thick layers of jagged ice.
They pounced forth as one, showing their skills as the fearsome warriors that drove a whole race to extinction with an army of just five-hundred on their side.
Aurelia breathes out, and her body tenses, eyes narrowing into sharp focus.
Her right foot stomps forward, and she moves-
Dawnbreaker cleaves laterally through the air, smashing into a hastily raised heavy shield. The force of the blow lifted the Atmoran off his feet and launched him into the adjacent building.
Her shoulder slammed forward, impacting the chest of the Atmoran who had lifted her Warhammer above her head, creating a miniature shock-wave on impact that sent the frozen woman flying and smashing into three of her companions behind her.
Freeing one hand, the Dragonborn flips around to catch a descending wrist carrying a short blade aimed at her neck. Her hand squeezed, and a crack sounded out, followed by a deafening smash as she pulls the Atmoran over her shoulder and smashes him into the floor in front of her.
Her head turns while her boot rises, and she faces the other Atmorans as her lips part, "FUS-RO-DAH!"
Her boot smashes down, crushing the skull of the downed Atmoran while the others were sent hurling like meteorites across dozens of buildings, turning an entire portion of the ghost city into a layer of rubble.
Hildr whistles at the sight as she places Rahgot's mask on her face, "You really hate the Undead, don't you?"
Aurelia sniffs and steps back, "No… Not these ones, at least." Her answer earns her a confused tilt of the head from Hildr, "These are Revenants."
Aurelia breathes out, her heart heavy as she glanced at the corpse at her feet.
Revenants, a unique type of Undead being. While most Undead are either made, or are born from resentment or forced duties placed upon the deceased being, Revenants are different.
Revenants just refuse to move on. By sheer Will alone, they force their Souls to remain within their bodies, creating a unique form of Undead being that are far mightier than most.
Aurelia internally wondered what caused so many of these warriors to just decide not to move on. To not seek their much deserved eternal rest.
"Careful!" Hildr calls out, startling Aurelia out of her thoughts as the redhead pounces forward, now clad in the flaming and molten armor from the Dragon Priest mask.
Her flaming blade blocks a longsword owned by the Atmoran with a shield that had been hurled into a building, and an explosion of flames disrupts the power behind it, else Hildr wouldn't be able to block it even when Reinforcement was pumping through her body at full power.
Having disrupted that swing, Hildr lashes out with her palm, a blazing white-hot Original Rune flashing to life as she slaps it onto the chest of the armored Atmoran.
From it, a gargantuan fireball rumbled to life, swelling to the size of a house within a second and swallowing the Atmoran within it.
Flipping on her heels, Hildr commands the roaring fireball, sending it crashing and melting through ruins and rubble, collecting all the other gathering Atmorans and the downed ones.
More poured out of the woodwork, soon reaching the hundreds, but Hildr's fireball kept growing more and more, soon doubling, then tripling, then reaching ten times its previous size.
Until, finally, she compressed it whole into the size of a dot and let it explode.
The heated shock-wave turned rubble to molten slag instantly and devastated an even greater portion of the city as gargantuan pillar of roaring flames gushed skyward, hitting one of the colossal chains binding the sphere.
This time it was Aurelia's turn to whistle at the sight, her stance relaxing as she watched the enormous pillar burn brightly, "Are you sure its safe to use so much Magicka? I'm sure there's a lot more of them around."
If these Atmorans were the Five-Hundred Companions, then the group that they just handled – likely not permanently – was but a fifth of the whole army.
Hildr pauses, then realizes that her reserves had not shrunk one bit. Instead, they were back to full and bursting, as if she wasn't using the Dragon Priest Mask and pumping Reinforcement through her body at full power.
Her lone eye glances at the sphere spewing endless amounts of Magicka hanging above the city, and a feral grin splits her face. "Looks like I can go as wild as I want here!" A cackle that resembles Leonidas' usually crazed ones flows past her lips, making Aurelia snort in amusement.
"Well… We are really going to need it." The Dragonborn muses, bright platinum flames coating Dawnbreaker as her gaze moves towards the distance.
From the edges of the destruction, massive frozen warriors stomped forward, eyes burning with blue flames, and hands wielding weapons of all kind.
But Aurelia could also feel the aftershocks coming from further away. She could tell that Deinmaar was battling some terrifying monster just from the miniature earthquakes that kept shaking the whole city, and that Leonidas was facing his own opponent on the other side of the city.
It was like they were separated on purpose.
Hildr gazed around, the sight dampening her delight at being able to go all out without fear. Clicking her tongue, she removed the Mask from her face, then tossed it to the side.
Flames swelled, then erupted, taking the form of a demonic werewolf, the Mask attached to its chest. Pulsing with Magicka, the demonic werewolf swells and howls, its body dripping with liquid flame and soon being coated in armored obsidian plates that made its sharp claws look even deadlier.
The Flame Spirit gazed around and growled in delight at the sight of so many opponents while devouring the surrounding Magicka hungrily to make its flames burn even hotter.
"'Relia." Hildr calls out softly, "I'm gonna do something stupid."
Aurelia lifts a brow while ignoring the ten foot tall demonic werewolf, and her eyes soon widen in understanding. A gentle smiles spreads across her cheeks, "Go ahead, I trust you."
Hildr smiles warmly, then closes her lone eye and breathes in.
The Atmoran army stops walking, and starts running, their stomps shaking the earth.
Freeing one hand, Aurelia breathes out softly, "Yol-Toor-Shul." The flaming Dragon Blade appears in her grasp as the surrounding temperature spikes, and starts climbing higher and higher.
Then skyrocketed when a deafening howl shakes the city.
Aurelia feels goosebumps cover her body, as if she was standing before a mighty Dragon Sage.
It was a pressure she knew well. Standing before an Apex Predator of immense might.
A pair of colossal crimson paws slam into the earth ahead of Aurelia, and the city streets turn into pool of glowing lava within seconds, and keep on expanding further with each passing moment.
Remaining tense, Aurelia watched the colossal wolf look around… Then lower its head to look down and beneath its belly.
A lone giant green eye stared at Aurelia, and the Dragonborn smiled warmly.
Hildr bared her sharp jaws in a terrifying grin, then lifted her head to stare at the approaching army. Her lone eye overflowed with pure, immense delight.
It was a gamble. A theory she had since she transformed back in Blackreach, and one she run by Kara and Lah in passing recently.
Her transformation required an immense amount of energy, which would in turn make her very hungry while in said form. But even if given sustenance, she would never be able to eat fast enough to satisfy the immense energy requirements.
And then she remembered a simple Restoration Spell, one in the Novice tier even. Ward Hunger, a simple Spell meant to help someone ignore the effects of hunger and make them feel as if they had a full meal.
By using it, she could ignore the mental effects of her growing hunger and not enter a feral state, but it won't stop her swiftly going weaker due to still present energy requirements.
With the simple Spell working, Hildr bares her jaws and cuts loose, unleashing a loud that expressed her immense delight.
And from that howl, a colossal expanding dome of blazing destruction spread forth, devastating the city and scorching the land black.
At least the charging Atmorans had more guts than Vulthuryol in the face of a giant flaming wolf pouncing on them.
Holding back a laugh, Aurelia swiftly joins the fray with the demonic werewolf in tow.
"Gretel will be so mad that she wasn't here to witness this…"
~~XXX~~
"Your swings lack conviction!"
Deinmaar staggers back from the clash, his arms and fingers feeling numb and shaking as the giant Ysgramor stomps forward, and unstoppable monster of pure, domineering might.
Never before did Deinmaar feel so overwhelmed and outclassed when it came to physical strength alone. It was his forte, his best, outclassing anyone and everyone with effortless ease.
And now, it was his turn to experience that terror. The terror of having an unstoppable Juggernaut walk towards him, through flames and lightning, through swings of a greatsword and deflecting them like it was but a fly striking at a giant.
"Atmorans aren't so weak!" Ysgramor bellows out, nostrils flaring like an enraged bull as he stomped close, the pitch black Wuuthrad hacking down like a guillotine blade.
Moving swiftly, Deinmaar dodges to the side, watching as that effortless swing leaves behind a deep ravine dozens of meters long. "Atmorans do not dodge!"
Enraged, Ysgramor bashed his shoulder into Deinmaar, creating an explosion of blinding plasma that didn't even burn the First Man's beard.
"Atmorans use arrows as toothpicks!" The giant bellows, voice so powerful that the very air vibrates in the wake of his voice.
"Atmorans use Spells to scratch their backs!" Another stomp. Another swing of Wuuthrad.
Deinmaar swings his greatsword to meet the blow and is nearly forced on his knees when faced with the overwhelming might.
Beneath his helmet, the man holding the title of Deinmaar grits his teeth.
Out of pain, out of shame, out of anger.
Before him stood everything he was not.
A man filled with conviction. A man who wanted something so badly he achieved it. A man who never gave up even when forced to run away.
Leonidas had told him about Ysgramor history. About his ancestor's accomplishments.
And Deinmaar found himself lacking.
What did he do his whole damned life?
The ground beneath him crumbles as he snarls. Ysgramor's eyes glow alight with approval as Wuuthrad trembles and is pushed up, allowing Deinmaar to fully straighten himself, albeit on shaky legs.
"What manner of Atmoran are you…" The First Man starts, looking at Deinmaar up and down, "To allow chains to weight you down?"
A kick to the chest, and entire streets turn to rubble. Deinmaar rolls to a stop, hacking out blood through hissed breaths of air, but his hands force him to stand up through it all.
Yet, Ysgramor's question rattles within his skull louder than a Dragon's roar.
"I've had chains bind me too!" The Bringer of Words hollers, his presence as heavy as a mountain as he stomps forward. Slow, steady, assured of victory. "Chain after fucking chain!"
"One for each loyal subject murdered! One for when my wonderful city was lit aflame! One when I was forced to run away like a coward! One when I lost my son at sea!"
Deinmaar stands up and breathes in, "And what did you do with them?"
Ysgramor laughs, "I came back and broke those fucking chains on the backs of those bastards!"
Deinmaar… Reels back, and breathes out.
Was it really so easy?
No, of course it wasn't. The chains are different, after all.
One for never truly pursuing the one he loves. One for never standing by her side until the very end.
One for each Dragon Priest he betrayed and killed.
One for each year he wallowed in misery instead of doing anything.
A distant explosion reaches his ears and snaps Deinmaar out of his downward spiral of thoughts.
His head turns towards the edges of the city, where a battle of terrifying Mages was unfolding. Flames against an encroaching tide of black and frost.
His fingers absentmindedly trace the runes on his chestplate. Deinmaar, they state.
Once, a name he proudly carried.
Now, it was a name he felt he wasn't honoring.
"You shouldn't be worrying about others." Ysgramor calls out, but doesn't take the opportunity to attack and instead just stops a few paces ahead of Deinmaar.
The shorter of the two Atmorans laughs and shakes his head, "I wasn't worrying about him." He corrects, voice wistful, "I was thinking about some words he once told me."
The First Man raises a bushy brow, "Oh?"
Softly, Deinmaar whispers those words, "It's not the armor, but the man wearing it."
It was who Leonidas had come looking for. Not a suit of armor. Not a weapon.
But someone he could trust. Someone who could protect the people.
A friend. A brother.
Those actions now appear in a different light to Deinmaar. Their encounter was the desperate plea of a man trying to find help.
"Fine words." Ysgramor nods, "You respect this friend of yours?"
Deinmaar laughs, "Friend? He is my brother." Warmth fills his chest. A burning determination fills his eyes. A new goal lights his path.
Ysgramor notices the change and grins, "Oh? What kind of man is he, to cause such a change within you?"
A greatsword is lifted and twirled effortlessly, "He likes messing around. He says jokes that only he understands and enjoys the confusion it all causes."
"He hates being alone with his own thoughts, or in general, so he makes sure to always keep his mind occupied with something."
"He hates feeling weak. He tries to carry everything on his shoulders, making sure those he loves feel no pressure, and he keeps a playful attitude to make sure they never worry."
"I am sure that, if he could, he'd gladly shoulder the weight of saving the world by himself if it kept everyone safe."
The First Man hums and uses his free hand to rub at his beard, "A foolish man." He states, and Deinmaar chuckles and nods, "But one I'd gladly give my back to, and offer a drink or two. Your respect is well placed."
Finally, Ysgramor moves Wuuthrad off his shoulders, "And what have you decided to do?"
Smiling beneath his helmet, the shorter Atmoran stands proud. Shoulder squared, eyes bright, head held high, "I'll wear the name Deinmaar."
A name with two meaning.
Guardian, which is the meaning he once used.
And finally, the one will now gladly bear.
"I will carry my brother's chains for him, and follow him to the ends of the world."
Keeper. The second meaning of Deinmaar.
He once was the Guardian of Law, of the people.
Now, he decides to be the Keeper of Chains.
Ysgramor raises a befuddled brow, "You are willing to carry another man's chains while also shouldering yours?" The First Man sounded genuinely baffled.
And beneath his helmet, Deinmaar grins like an idiot, "I'm sure my brother will break my chains for me." He laughs softly, "He tends to be very good at breaking things, after all!"
And that's when he moves.
Ysgramor's eyes barely have time to widen, and he barely has the time to move Wuuthrad's staff in front of his chest in a hasty block before the blow lands.
All of Saarthal feels it connect.
Buildings pop like balloons stuffed with too much air. The bricks of the roads turn to powder way before the sound of impact even flows past them.
The giant chains above rattle, and Ysgramor is sent hurling deep into the earth, and digging a massive ditch behind with his back.
Stunned but not fazed, the giant Atmoran stands and shrugs his shoulders- Only for a thrown greatsword to smash into Wuuthrad's staff, removing it from his grasp and sending both weapons flying away.
Lifting his gaze, the First Man stares at the approaching Deinmaar.
The former Dragon Priest reaches up and removes his helmet. Tossing it to the side, he undoes the clasps of his chestplate and lets it fall heavily on the ground, revealing his bare, muscular chest.
His gauntlets are next.
"As a man I greatly respect once said…" Rolling his shoulders, Deinmaar has his face split by a feral grin, "No more weapons."
"We fight like men now."
Ysgramor blinks, then throws his head back and laughs. Pure, genuine and proud laughter.
And as he laughs, his helmet and armor also hit the ground.
"Good! Good! That's how an Atmoran should be, my boy!" Enthusiastic and grinning maniacally, Ysgramor spreads his muscular arms to the side, "Now, come at me-"
The punch lands.
Saarthal is cracked in half.
The First Man's body is sent hurling back to his palace, and against the chain binding the sphere above the city.
And the first of many Chains shatters.
~~XXX~~
I gotta admit; This has to be the first time I've had a full Mage showdown.
Krosis doesn't count, as I just humiliated him. Hevnoraak… He died too fast to count, plus he was weak and pathetic as hell.
"You are a Mage of passing skill." Ahzidal praises, swinging his staff almost lazily to incinerate an approaching swarm of maddened creatures and the encroaching black tar spawning them.
"Thanks, I've been at it for just a few months." I lazily answer, which brings the ancient Enchanter to a momentary pause before he keeps swinging his cane. "It's high praise coming from the likes of you."
Ahzidal hums, waves of growing heat flowing out of him tirelessly, his form a constantly expanding white-hot sun, "I wonder… How do you know me? I do not believe there are books about me."
I shrug, "The knowledge I hoard could make Hermaeus Mora grovel at my feet and beg for even a sliver of it." Now this might be an empty boast, but who knows… "Plus, who wouldn't know about Ahzidal?"
"A skilled Nord Enchanter born in Saarthal. His magical prowess swiftly surpassed his instructors, and when he felt like he couldn't progress anymore among his kind, he left his wife and child behind to go and further develop his studies among the Elves."
I didn't miss the small tightening of his fist around his cane when I mentioned his late family.
Ahzidal hums, "You know your history." He praises, though it was empty, "Then you know what I found when I came back?"
I nod even as more demented and malformed beasts pounced forth, the black tar forcing his domain of heat to shrink further and further.
"Snow Elves burned the city to the ground. Few survived. Your family wasn't among them." He nods and flares his nostrils, "You then set off on a path of revenge, which was fulfilled when Ysgramor came back, and you offered him and his army your services."
And that's where everything diverges. Ahzidal doesn't go on his path afterward. He doesn't lust for more knowledge and power, he doesn't join the Dragon Cult to hoard their Dragon Runes, and subsequently doesn't go mad when he approaches Hermaeus Mora for more knowledge and gets sealed away in turn.
"So… What's all this about?" I question, waving towards the Eye of Magnus chained above us.
Ahzidal doesn't answer instantly, instead he waves his staff and sends forth a colossal fireball my way.
Said fireball turns into embers when a Draconian Howl pierces through it and smashes into a conjured Ward right in front of Ahzidal's face.
The Spell screeches against the dense, nigh-perfect Ward before the protective Spell is tilted to the side, allowing the projectile to slide off and away.
"This? It is but my revenge being enacted." The old man answers with a shrug of his shoulders, and if I could, I'd frown in confusion.
What does he mean by that?
The horde of demented beasts suddenly comes to a halt, paws and jaws and mangled hands swiftly being aimed towards Ahzidal as thousands of Draconian Howls sparkle to life from them.
The ancient Mage just stabs his cane into the earth, cratering and shifting the landscape, causing the beasts to stumble and miss all of their shots, sending destruction in random directions.
"Do you know the effects sealing that thing is having on the outside world?" I question Ahzidal, but he doesn't answer. He just smiles.
Not a fake smile, or empty one. A genuine, delighted one.
He knows. He has done it on purpose, then. That's his goal.
Why? Why cripple all Races when it comes to their Magical development?
I turn my head towards the chains to further study them. Mainly, the glowing engravings on them.
Daedric Runes, Ayleids ancient Runes, Altmer scripts, some form of unique metal created by the Dwemer, Dragon Runes… He has used everything he learned and knows to make these chains.
I've seen and heard of each of these things through the Folium Discognitum. Each one of these are the foundation of a whole Race.
This is his revenge. Think, Leo. Think! What does he mean by that?
The answer is right in front of my eyes, but my tired mind fails to latch onto it as it slips away from my fingertips again and again.
I sniff and turn away from the chains and stomp forward, not willing to play around anymore. I've learned my lesson with Vulthuryol, and I won't repeat that mistake again.
The black tar swells into a tsunami of howling faces and hungry maws, malevolent eyes shining with madness peeking at Ahzidal from those abyssal waters.
The old man narrows his eyes and flicks his staff, the dome of scorching heat swelling to meat the damned waters- Only for me to just aim my palm towards him and let loose with my Frost Magic.
The screeching glacial winds swiftly drop the temperature as soon as they manifest in a colossal beam that dwarfs Ahzidal's sun in scope and intensity, forcing the old man back as his eyes widen in surprise.
A blazing Original Rune sparkles to life at the bottom of his cane, which he aims my way. But instead of launching the Spell through it, I watch him create a different Original Rune right in front of the previous one.
This one is larger, more powerful, but also blue. Meaning that it is Lightning Magic.
A colossal beam of heat erupts out of the first Original Rune, smashes into the second one from behind, then erupts from the front as a blinding beam of pure plasma that carves through my waves of frost and abyssal waters with ease.
Huh… That's new. I guess that is how Original Runes are meant to be used.
One use is to create Arrays, another for Scrolls, and one to fuse two Spells together. I never thought about fusing two Original Runes together, or launching a Spell through an Original Rune and see what happens.
A perfect fusion of two Spells, which is usually impossible to achieve. Synchrony between elements is one thing, but uniting two Spells is a whole different matter.
Let's test that out!
A thunderous Original Rune booms into existence in front of me, swelling to the size of a house than further in a matter of moment.
Ahzidal's gaze goes from shocked to horrified when a second blinding white Original Rune appears in front of the previous one.
A Vasavi Shakti erupts into existence with a violent thunderclap that shakes the ruined landscape, then enters and passes through the Original Rune of my beloved Draconian Howl.
The ensuing fusion is akin to a railgun.
The whole pocket dimension flashes black and white. Everything ahead of my fused Spell is erased from existence.
And by everything, I mean that literally.
A colossal pitch black hole is punched clean through the pocket dimension, allowing me to gaze within the Void that makes up the space between the planes of existence.
I hum and reach up to rub at my mask's chin. Did that kill Ahzidal? No, it couldn't have.
Still, I know that my Draconian Howl can break things easily… But a damn pocket dimension wasn't among the things I thought I could break.
I perk up when the hole into the Void starts repairing itself, the massive chain closest to me pulsing and glowing, clearly providing the immense Magicka needed for the repair process.
I raise a hand and point a finger towards the glowing chain, ready to shatter it, but I pause at the sound of footsteps. My gaze turns back to the hole in Void, from where Ahzidal strides out at a calm pace.
His left arm is gone, and his whole body is covered in horrifying burns. Which all disappear in a flash of Restoration Magic, his missing arm also regrowing and coming back in a flash.
Yeah, killing a Mage with access to infinite Magicka is surely to be difficult… Well, I do have access to said infinite Magicka myself. I was just afraid that any excessive Spell could cause damage to the outside world.
"I underestimated you." Ahzidal dusts off his tattered and broken cloak with a heavy frown on his face, "I won't do so again."
I shrug, "Doesn't matter. You can't stop me from destroying the chains."
He blinks, then sneers, "You fool. Those chains cannot be broken-"
The whole of Saarthal quakes, and I flip my head to stare at the portion of the city right below the Eye of Magnus, where I believe Deinmaar is.
I can see Hildr in her wolf form into the distance, having turned the landscape into a roaring and brilliant inferno filled with normal flames and Sunfire, showing that she is with Aurelia.
But whatever happened with Deinmaar made the whole city crack apart.
Something was launched with such power and speed that it split the domain in half.
And the chain attached to the bottom of the Eye of Magnus explodes in brilliant shards.
I stare at the sight as the Eye of Magnus jumps in the air, its exterior glowing with greater brilliance, as if rejuvenated.
I turn back towards Ahzidal and jab a thumb towards the now destroyed chain, "You were saying?"
His eyes are wide and filled with growing horror, "My lord..."
'Lord'? Does he fucking mean…?!
Clenching his teeth, the old man marches forward, but a tidal wave of abyssal waters gets in his way, "Move, you damnable mongrel!"
I snort, "Make me, pal." With a flex of my Magicka, I stop holding back and abuse the benefit of being so close to the Eye of Magnus.
Colossal hands and malformed beast surge out of the black tar in the hundreds as the black tide expands further and further without stop. Like so, I swiftly encircle Ahzidal, surrounding him on all sides.
His usual calm composure until now finally broke. He was alarmed, worried and desperate. He didn't want us to free the Eye, perhaps because he can't seal it again once the seal is undone.
Which means… That he didn't do this with his own capabilities. They helped, but even with his impressive skill, sealing such an Artifact shouldn't be possible.
His revenge… Despite hating the Elves, he trained under them after losing his family until Ysgramor came back.
I stare at the desperate old man, my form hidden by the growing army of demented beasts screeching and howling as they charged within his blazing and shrinking domain, forcing him into a more desperate fight.
He can't waste time with bigger, concentrated Spells lest he gets attacked from behind or a random blind spot. And he knows he can't expand his blazing domain carelessly, as I could also attack him from below.
Before me is a powerful mage, yes… But not a terrifying existence who went mad for more knowledge and hoarded immense power since the age of Ysgramor.
He never joined Hermaeus Mora. I can tell.
No… He joined someone else. Someone that would thrive from his revenge.
Someone that could help him seal the Eye.
With a growl, Ahzidal's eyes change. They turn a glowing, burning gold and gain slitted pupils, and his flames swell and roar, turning a burning and cursed crimson color.
These new flames washed away my abyssal waters and beasts like they were nothing, burning through Magicka itself as they expanded and swelled further.
"You are Mehrunes Dagon's Champion, aren't you?"
Ahzidal snarls and swings his staff, his cursed crimson flames destroying the surroundings as he advances with a desperate gait.
Mehrunes Dagon, the Prince of Destruction, but also of Energy. Of Change.
He'd be the only one capable of helping Ahzidal seal the Eye of Magnus, and also the only that would enjoy the consequences of doing such a thing.
He caused Change. A change that kept happening across thousands of years. The slow but horrible crippling of Magical talent across the whole of Nirn, and all of the Races.
This caused Destruction. It probably was also one of the reasons Ayleids Empire fell during the First Era and their race nearly went extinct.
Plus, it caused other types of Destruction. Destruction of knowledge, of legacies, of talent, of types of Magic.
This is Ahzidal's revenge. Crippling the one thing the Elves shine in; Magic itself.
Even if it dragged down his own kind, he still went through with it.
A part of me wonders if I should even be mad about this. Thinking about it, I wonder if Tiber Septim's Empire would have been born if Ahzidal did not seal the Eye.
If so, would it have fallen from the war decades ago? Would the Thalmor have destroyed the White-Gold Tower?
So many things could have been prevented due to the Eye being sealed. So many possible what if's…
"To think that you'd drag Ysgramor into this idiotic revenge of yours." I sigh and step forward while the abyssal waters retract.
The Snow Elves are no more, yet Ahzidal wasn't satisfied. He truly fits his name.
Embittered destroyer indeed.
The old man snarls, "You know nothing!"
I shrug, "Maybe." Then, my wave my hand to the side. Ahzidal fails to react in time a giant Draconian Howl booms through the air, and smashes through the closest glowing chain to us.
Two down, three more to go.
The Eye of Magnus now audibly rumbles, and Ahzidal's eyes shrink out of pure, burning hot madness.
His bellow of fury is further accompanied by the explosive popping and crackling of his deep crimson flames as he pounces at me.
But I just step forward as my Juggernaut armor covers my body.
My hand reaches out and snatches his throat out of the air, ignoring his burning flames as I slam him down onto the ground.
Had it been the previous me, I'd have struggled a lot against Ahzidal, but he isn't a fighting mage. He is an Enchanter, and that hasn't changed even after all of these years.
A flex of my Magicka unleashes forth a blast of Frost Magic that drown out his enhanced flames, and his struggles die down as his body is caked in layers of frost and snow.
"You didn't go to Hermaues Mora for more knowledge, but went with Mehrunes Dagon instead." My grip around his throat tightens, "Why drag everyone down in your path of revenge? Couldn't you let them move on?"
Ahzidal sneers, "Move on?" His teeth clatter as he lets out a raspy, cruel laugh, "Sovngarde gives access to those who die in battle, not those who die of old age."
His shaking hands reach up to grasp my wrist, but his flames die out before they can even fight back against my frost, "My Lord and my brothers and sisters stood at the top. With my Enchantments, they were the strongest in existence…"
"Who could kill them in battle?"
...He is right. They were so strong that they couldn't fall and gain their eternal deserved rest in Sovngarde and watch the next generations of warriors enter its halls.
"And so you drag them here?"
His chapped lips spread into a twisted, desperate smile, "They are dying a warrior's death, aren't they?" His laughter end in a wheeze when I squeeze his throat.
Yet, he keeps talking, "I tried… I really did. I tried to move on, to forget my rage, my revenge, and move on with my Lord and brothers and sisters… But I couldn't!"
"And that's when the voices came, whispering promises of knowledge, of power, within my mind… Oh, they were so alluring…"
His smile spreads like a chasm across his face, growing more twisted. More insane. "I had this itch, one I watched to scratch so badly… Doing it would feel so good, but for each scratch, I'd lose more and more things that make me, me…"
My hand squeezes his neck once more, "And so you went to Mehrunes Dagon?"
Ahzidal shakes his head, "Oh, no… He came to me!" His grip around my wrists grows tighter, the skin on his fingers freezing off together with his nails. "He made me an offer. A promise."
His demented smile grows fanatical, "Once they are all gone… I will lead the Deadlands armies across Nirn, and wipe out all Elves from existence!"
This absolutely insane fool… "You honestly think you'll win?"
He cackles, the sound of his broken laughter covering the distant sounds of battle, "You don't understand, do you?"
"The talent and capabilities of each mage across Nirn will grow worse with each passing year that damnable thing remains bound and chained up."
"Until, finally… Even the mighty Elves will struggle to conjure even a simple fireball!"
As I thought… Kara's testimony proves this. She watched each generation of mages since she was sealed away grow worse and worse.
"I just need to break your neck, and those chains." I lift him high in the air, but he just smiles… And that smile brings me to a pause.
I stare at him, then flick my gaze towards the Eye of Magnus. Mainly its exterior and the chains binding it.
Aetherial Fragments, like the Great Welkynd stones… Which, if used right, can be used to open Oblivion Gates.
In the game, one was opened in Skyrim through this method, bypassing Martin's sacrifice.
"You twisted fuck…"
If he lives, he'll get to have an ability like mine, gaining access to Mehrunes Dagon's Daedric Realm and summoning hordes of his soldiers.
If he dies, he will be a sacrifice that, with the Eye of Magnus itself will be used to fuel the creation of a possible gargantuan Oblivion Gate that cannot be closed.
"You cannot win…" Ahzidal rasps out a cruel laugh, "And the Gods won't be able to help you here…"
My grip around his throat tightens until he starts gasping for air.
"The Gods? Helping me?" I laugh softly as his crazed eyes meet mine, "Oh no, you got it all wrong…"
"They need to help Mehrunes Dagon. Not me."
I pull him close, my voice a low growl as his skin starts cracking and falling apart due to the spreading frost. "I know you are listening, you fuck."
"At least have the guts to stand before me, Lehkelogah."
Those words cause Reality to shudder, the slowly repairing hole in the Void suddenly gaining a burning light within it.
And from it, four pair of colossal hands reach out to grasp the edge of the repairing dimension, then pull it apart to open that hole further.
Slowly, the immense avatar of Mehrunes Dagon steps within Saarthal.
His presence brings along catastrophic levels of heat, with the land below his feet turning into pools of bubbling magma.
His glowing eyes flick down to stare at me, and I move the gasping Ahzidal out of the way so to fully face the giant avatar.
"You…" Mehrunes Dagon starts, voice deep and powerful, causing the very air to boom, "How do you know that name-"
"Shut the fuck up."
The Daedric Prince stills, baffled at my sheer daring.
"What we are going to do right now is very, very fucking simple." I raise Ahzidal higher and shake him like he is a piece of dirty laundry, "You stop any plotting going on right now. You will stop trying to create Oblivion Gates for as long as I exist…"
Mehrunes Dagon's glowing eyes narrow, and a snarl pulls at his lips.
Yet my next words make the Daedric Prince look at me in horror.
"Or I will make sure that every single fucking God and Daedric Prince out there will know your full Nymic."
A.N. For those wondering, a Nymic is basically a 'True Name' that defines the existence of Daedra and Daedric Princes alike.
Through their use, one can make affect a Daedric Prince and make them do 'something'. Even banish them from a Realm.
Leo wants to catch nappy time so badly that he willing to crash out on the Daedric Prince of Destruction himself.
Hope y'all enjoyed this chappy!
Toodles!
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Topher Lake
Peak
BillyBT of the DragonGT
Anumidiums true name, the thing that conceptualizes him, is a spoiled teenager that can’t take no as an answer
