disclaimer: i do not own anything here skyrim and fallout belongs to bethesda dragon age and mass effect belong to bioware , respectively

notes: i am using - The Dragon Language Dictionary to translate dovahzul if you want to find out what they're saying in dragontongue, later on if its important to the story ill provide translation below

this is my first story so please be gentle

also some 0f you may have noticed that i briefly took this story down then reposted it my apologies there was some editing i had neglected ill try to do better in future

chapter-01

meet the party

"come then Dovahkiin! luft zey! let us see whose thu'um is stronger!"

"hi tinvaak ahk pogass! you talk too much World-eater mayhaps you intend to bore me to death?" Aslandar of clan oath-shield called into the whipping wind. Sounding braver than he felt. He had been fighting alongside the tongues in sovngarde, when alduin suddenly shouted them both back to the mortal realm, appearing on top of one of skyrim's many mountains. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he must of cut an imposing figure. For his body was clad head to toe in the wolf armour of the companions. Fur cloak billowing in the storm behind him. Tall and strong as any nord, his face was pale skinned and marked with a swirling pattern of blue warpaint upon his chiseled left cheek. His blonde beard full but closely trimmed, leading to an equally blonde head full of long hair. Which had been weaved into four separate warriors braids. Upon this heroic visage sat the horned helm of yngol son of ysgramor. on his back was strapped the ancient axe wuuthrad, which was once borne by ysgramor himself. Held in a defensive pose in front of him was that very same warrior of old's shield carved with the face of a dragon. Beside this age old piece was held aloft a newer but no less potent tool, his own sword of skyforge steel made by the smith eorlund grey mane and modified by his own design and skill. All of this was enchanted so as to increase their effectiveness tenfold. Had anyone else been there to witness him standing so, ankle deep in the snow of the peak. They would of thought him some arcane sky-warrior or a demigod come down to earth.

...They would not be far from the truth.

He had been called by many titles in his life

'Hero & Saviour'

'Dragon-slayer'

'Harbinger of the companions'

'General-stormblade'

'Oath keeper'

for his heirloom gear and his hatred of the dreaded thalmor he had been called 'the Heir of Ysgramor'

but most of all they called him 'Dovahkiin' or in common tongue 'Dragonborn'

It was not so long ago, that he had been but the second son of an old but impoverished clan. He had been hired out as a caravan guard. Not content to simply sit around the mead-hall. He was in elsweyr when news finally reached him of the civil war in his homeland. He had immediately packed up everything he owned. Intent on seeing if his family was alright. But he had been caught up in an imperial ambush, and taken to helgen. On that fateful day the dragon attacked … so much had happened since then.

Like any good nord he was thrilled by the prospect of battle, and many powerful foes had fallen beneath his blade. But now standing here facing alduin the worldeater, whom it was his ultimate destiny to defeat. He felt no pride or power in his own glories for they all seemed so … trivial compared to the foe he faced now. For the son of akatosh was the king of all dragons and a god in his own right, and though he could match this titan of immortal ages shout for shout, and blow for blow so far, and though the face he put forward was brave. He could not prevent cold fear from clamping down on his heart, and his slight shiver came not from the cold. Nevertheless the mortal man directed his ice-blue eyes at the frozen vista around him. Searching for any sign of his terrifying foe. For that massive black spiked body, those leathery wings and most of all those blood red inhuman eyes.

there.

A small dark spot among the endless grey and white slowly growing larger and larger.

the dragonborn breathed in preparing his thu'um. Before a bright yellow flash suddenly overtook his vision. Taking him into the depths of unconsciousness.

Leaving the mountaintop just as empty as before he arrived.

BANG!

The sharp retort of the longue carabine echoed through the air. As the .357 magnum round found it's target in the right temple of a brahmin. Pushing all the way through the skull out the other side and right into the beast's next head, killing it in under a second.

"boom headshot"

Muttered a man on a nearby ridge. The man's skin was leathery and tanned from so many days in the mojave. Though most of it was covered by a piece of cloth he had pulled up, to protect his face from the billowing dust that had so often blinded him in the past. His brown eyes peered out towards his kill, seeing it's next of kin were fleeing the area as fast as their misshapen bodies would allow them. Not that he blamed them but it wasn't as if he needed anything more from them … yet. Pulling his favorite brown fedora over his short cropped brown hair to keep the sun out. He set out towards his supper for the night. Funny thing that hat, he had found it near goodsprings on an old skeleton resting inside a pre-war refridgerator. What it was doing there he had no idea but he decided not to question it, there were weirder things out in the wasteland. His lanky form clad in leather armour of his own fashion set out towards the mutant corpse. Strapping his rifle back onto his leather backpack as he approached he kept a hand on the holster of his AEP7 laser pistol, better safe than sorry you never knew what was out there. It took him less than an hour to skin and carve up the creature, so night was only just falling as he returned to his makeshift campsite. The pot he had left was already boiling with some vegetables he had left there to simmer, just waiting for the main course to be thrown in. The smell was intoxicating. A happy 'bark!' greeted him as scout got up and nuzzled his keeper's leg. Giving his dog a pet on the head, He wasted no time in preparing the meat and skins before throwing the former in the pot to cook and the latter in his bag for later.

"Were gonna eat good tonight huh boy?"

'Bark!'

"Yeah i thought you'd say something like that" the hunter chuckled to himself as he leaned back against the pole of his tent

As he watched the food cook and felt scout sit back down next to him, he remarked that some might find his apparent fondness of the wilds strange. It wasn't that he didn't like people, hell some of them were really nice. But out here things were so much …. simpler there were no roving gangs of bandits and mutants. (actually there were this is were they specifically resided in fact but you didn't THINK of them out here) There were no republics and legions building up to a massive war. There were no mysterious killers he had to track down to get his answers from.

speaking of …

He reached into his shirt and pulled out the only thing he had of his former life. The only clues as to who he was before his memories were taken from him. A pair of metal dog tags rested in his hand, both attached the a string chord he had around his neck. On one was printed

MARCUS

The other held a whole two words.

8th ranger

And that was all he had to go on. What was he hoped his first name and presumably an identification of some sort. Though he had yet to find any group, military or otherwise called the 'Eighth rangers' and it didn't look like he was going to anytime soon.

"Rrruff" He looked down at scout who was returning the look with what marcus determined to be concern. He smiled slightly. "no use depressing myself over it huh boy?" Scratching him behind the ears he relaxed again. "i've got my rifle and you and the open mojave before me what else do i need right?" The canines only response was to look back to the fire. Knowing it would take a while for the food to cook, marcus crossed his arms over his chest and closed his eyes to get some shuteye while he could.

So with his eyes closed as they were he couldn't see the sudden yellow flash around him as he disappeared pack and all from his place.

Scout looked around confused.

"bark?"

...and so the grey warden sacrificed themselves in combat to defeat urthemiel the archdemon and with him gone the rest of the darkspawn horde were scattered back into the depths and saving the rest of the world thus ends the tale of

"Inquisitor!"

Maera sighed disappointed in the fact that she wouldn't be able to finish her book. Sometimes she thought the other members of her 'inquisition' existed only to torment her.

Forcing herself to look away from the old pages. The young elf mage turned her head to look at who had disturbed her research …

It was cassandra the seeker "inquisitor your presence is required immediately"

"oh what is it now cassandra? can't you see i'm busy?"

"the circle have a request for us i thought you would be interested in that"

Indeed she was though she was a dalish elf, and studied under her keeper she had an extreme interest in any sort of magic practiced by anyone, including the circle. In fact she had an extreme interest in any sort of knowledge at all, knowledge after all was power as her mentor used to say. As she got up and prepared to follow cassandra she regarded herself in the mirror that had been provided to her. she was fairly pretty by most standards she supposed, if a bit on the small side. Long auburn hair almost red that went past her shoulders framed her fair face. The reflection of emerald green eyes stared back at her. Her blue and golden robes draped over her thin form, A bracelet adorned her left wrist a few small charms decorating it, a reminder of where she came from, and of course the ever present electric green mark glowing slightly in her right palm.

She was born in clan sabrae to two hunters, fehlen and pallana. It became apparent from an early age that she had magical aptitude but more than that she was curious … ever so curious. She always wanted to learn more, to understand everything about everything. While the other children listened to the elders speak she sat to the side watched a tree and wondered why it's leaves were the shape that they were. Everyone was kind enough to her she supposed. Even if she wasn't exactly popular that didn't bother her though. She didn't get lonely not as long as she had something else to wonder about. When the time came she was moved to study as the first of the keeper of clan lavellan, brialya. She studied under her for barely a year learning all she could of the magical arts. Before the whole deal with the breach. She still found it hard to believe that she had been apparently chosen as the herald of andraste. The reason being she was obviously a mage and an elf which had caused quite a bit of tension. If the maker wanted a champion he had chosen a strange one.

She hoped the circle had some books they were willing to give up.

"inquisitor?" Cassandra's voice pulled her from her musings "right sorry" As she grabbed her metal staff Maera had this sudden feeling that something was terribly terribly wrong. An almost natural sense that something unnatural was happening. But before she could examine it further the strange premonition left. Shrugging it off as nothing more than the stress of her position getting to her, she began to briskly walk outside cassandra following right behind her. As she opened the door a sudden gust of wind sent her mane flying before finally settling down. Looking around Haven as she began to walk. She saw all the denizens of the makeshift town going about their daily duties. She could hear the ring of hammer on metal as the smith worked away, and the clucking of chickens as they were herded to one place or another. But most of all she could hear them.

The people almost all of them, talking to each other in hushed whispers. Their tone one of awe, respect and even mild fear. The worst part was when the occasional one would bow slightly and mutter 'herald' in greeting. Maera strutted past them all feeling uneasy. Though it had been like this for a while, she still was definitely not used to the idea of being in charge of someone.

"they believe in you you know" came Cassandra's voice "they trust you, they have hope in you" Though she didn't look back maera responded "But why me? i'm not nearly experienced enough to lead anyone. These days have been my first outside of dalish camps, and i'm a mage for fade's sake! and i'm supposed to be the chosen one of the chantry? it doesnt make any sense!" Cassandra was silent then apparently thinking over her words. This allowed the elf to think to herself trying to come up with ANY reason this would be her place. It was nearly five minutes before cassandra spoke again "Because they need to." This time maera did look back her face one of confusion. "These are dark times inquisitor and hope is hard to come by, you provide that hope maera" Maera highly doubted this but nodded for her to continue anyway. "It doesn't really matter if you're the herald or not it's the IDEA of the herald that's important the people look to you because you are a symbol, you bear the mark, you can close the rifts, and you were at the conclave all of that could mean your the maker's daughter sent down to thedas or it could mean nothing at all but they THINK it means something so they fight on because of you they know they have a fighting chance you have given them a flag to rally behind and a name to latch their hope to this is why they follow you because honestly they have no one else to follow" The woman apparently didn't have any more to add after that and simply focused her eyes forward. Maera did the same not knowing what to say as she mulled over the words given to her.

There it was again.

More pronounced this time. Still faint but noticeable and not small enough to ignore. It was magical in nature she could determine that now at least. Some sort of strange static buildup of energy in the air. She stopped in the middle of the road and turned back to cassandra. "did you feel that?" The woman surprised by this sudden change in demeanour was startled for a second before replying. "feel what?" "that … that pulse" Pulse was definitely the word maera would use to describe it, as it didn't feel so much like a singular event as it did a dilation within a larger system. What that system was however she had no idea. "I felt no pulse inquisitor … are you well?" The event was magical in nature perhaps only those attuned to magic could pick it up? "i-im fine cassandra lets just continue" cassandra gave her a concerned look before nodding once

They reached their destination in 'the war room' shortly thereafter. With no further incident. As she entered maera noticed a man wearing a mage robe fidgeting uncomfortably at one end of the table. Solas was also looking concerned though he did a better job of hiding it. But maera could see it in his face. "ahh so you're the herald?" The new mage spoke. "so im told" Responded Maera cautiously. "FINALLY … you have no idea how important this is … it has come to our attention that-" He was cut off there as maera suddenly let out a scream and dropped to the floor clutching her head.

It was back.

But this time it wasn't faint at all. This time it screamed in her mind and she could feel a maelstrom of magic swirling around her, and not just magic. Something else too, something she didn't know. Was adding to whatever foul spell was being weaved here. Through teary eyes she saw both solas and the stranger have similar reactions. She could hear the frantic voices of the others calling for aid. But it was too late, looking up she saw the same thing she had been fighting for the past few days.

A rift.

But this was much more. Not only was the magic around it impossibly powerful. The other force was there too pushing and pulling just beyond her perception. Maera felt herself being drawn in. She tried to fight it but it was like holding a candle to a rainstorm. Slowly inch by inch she was pulled forward. As she sipped into darkness she noticed one last thing.

… this rift was yellow

"here's to you mordin you were a good scientist and a damn fine man!"

"HEAR HEAR!" Cried the rest of her team as they simultaneously downed their glasses of scotch. Commander alice shepard looked across the bar at the rest of her team conversing among themselves. But her eyes were inexorably drawn to the young krogan sitting at the far end. Silently looking into his drink. Before now she thought it was impossible for the giant lizard-like warrior race to look depressed. A lot of impossible things were happening recently. A large red gauntleted hand suddenly placed itself upon grunt's shoulder. Both his and her own gaze looked up, to see a much older and battle scarred krogan sit himself down next to the cloned one. 'at least someone's getting some comfort' She thought morosely. The salarian doctor's demise had hit her whole team very hard. So she had used it as an excuse. To stop off at the nearest inhabited planet whose name she didn't pay attention to. But more importantly it was an excuse to get drunk. The sudden loss of a friend wasn't the only thing weighing down the spectre's mind. It had not been too long ago, that the pro-human organization known as 'cerberus' had used some sort of forbidden project. To resurrect her from the dead. As their own personal weapon, and she hated them for it. She didn't ask to be brought back to this screwed up galaxy, but here she was. The council she was supposed to work for apparently didn't trust her much. Because of her association with cerberus which had been named a terrorist group. Not that she blamed them she didn't trust those racists as far as she could throw them. But they were the ones who brought her back to life, and they were apparently the only ones who really believed her about the reaper threat. Oh yeah did she forget to mention that to herself? There was a race of sentient super warships out there. Intent on destroying everything she knew and loved. Just one more thing to add to the list.

To try and clear her mind she closed her eyes for a second.

Major mistake.

She should've expected it really, but somehow it caught her by surprise every time.

The faces.

The faces of everyone she had killed over her career. Human, turian, asari it didn't matter. They were there every time she closed her eyes. Staring at her, judging her. It didn't take her long to realize that she HATED killing. She could do it all day long. But as soon as it was over, and she could think without being shot at. She couldn't look at herself without disgust. It had all started on torfan. Every one of those people no matter how much of a thug or villain had a life. A history a home, a family, parents, wives husbands, children. She never understood how the others had coped. The only time the faces didn't come, is when she was either A:drunk B:forcibly knocked out or C: too tired to even realize she had gone to sleep. The first option always sounded the best to her.

"commander?" A tentative voice asked her.

"hmm?" She blearily looked up into the concerned face of garrus.

"it's almost midnight commander" The turian said. No that couldn't be right, but looking towards the clock she realized it was. The rest of her team had apparently retired as well. They were the only ones in the building. She must've let time slip away from her as she delved into her thought's nodding she tried to get up.

… And nearly fell flat on her ass. Looking down she saw at least a dozen empty glasses resting at her place on the counter. It came to her then that while she was deep in depressing thought, she had been mindlessly waving for more drinks and gulping them down. Must've been too drunk to pay attention to what she was doing.

Garrus loyal as ever, let her lean on him, and escorted her back towards the ship. As they entered the newly rebuilt normandy SR2 it became apparent that everyone else was already fast asleep. Garrus must've stayed up to make sure she got to bed. The stupid turian. When they arrived at her door she mumbled a thanks, and went in by herself. Leaving garrus to return to his own quarters. The door closed with a light 'hsss'. As she slumped against the wall, and checked herself in her personal mirror. Her skin almost ghostly pale as a result of living in spaceships her whole life. Was contrasted by the raven black hair she had closely cropped around her face. Storm grey eyes studied the reflection of a long scar on her left cheek. A reminder of what had happened on torfan. On the other cheek were glowing yellow marks. A reminder of how she was still breathing. Her body was still clad in her heavy predator armour. Painted to look like her old N7 gear. Her avenger assault rifle mark 5 was folded up on her back, along with her savage mark 4 shotgun. Being too lazy and too drunk to take it all off, she climbed into her bed and started to drift off.

She could've sworn the lights were off when she entered. Why was everything yellow?